Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman- Beginnings
by Brian368
Summary: How the Trinity met. May include other heroes later on. Bruce and Clark are in their late 20's and have been operational for 5 years each. Diana is in her mid 20's and has been in Man's World for 2 years. She has not become Wonder Woman just yet. All the heroes are aware of each others existence although they have not worked together yet.
1. Chapter 1

9.37 PM Gotham, Wayne Manor  
Bruce adjusted his tie and checked his reflection in the mirror for what seemed like the thousandth time that evening. He had been planning this party for a much later period but circumstances beyond his control had forced him to move up his timetable. The newspapers had begun speculating about Bruce Wayne's social life(or lack thereof). Gotham's tabloids were always obsessed with him, but when 'legitimate' newspapers like the Gotham Tribune began looking into his personal life, well, frankly it gave Bruce reason for concern. No one would suspect a billionaire playboy philanthropist of being a vigilante by night. Especially if he was a fop. He had a reputation as a hedonistic airhead among many Gothamites, but not all of them.  
You see, there was a subtle difference in how Gotham perceived Bruce Wayne.

Among the 'common' people Bruce was known for his lavish lifestyle;his love for gorgeous women, fast cars and good liquor was average Gothamite assumed Bruce inherited his companies and enormous fortune, and they were right. But the average Gothamite didn't know the patience, skill and smarts required to manage such a massive responsibility, and not only keep it afloat, but keep the ventures successful and build even more on that inherited wealth. They just assumed he paid people to do that work for him.

But most of the wealthier families-by virtue of their children having attended the same schools he did,and their interactions with Bruce himself- knew he was quite intelligent,or at least, not as brainless as most people thought he was. They also knew that he had been quite the star athlete in his teens,and he could have had a professional career had he wanted it. So they knew he was no slouch physically or mentally, but they certainly didn't think he had been doing complex detective work or dodging bullets every night for nearly 5 years.

He feared the newspapers might brand him a recluse. A reclusive billionaire? Fine, there were lots of them. A reclusive billionaire with a tragic past, living in a city inhabited by a vigilante? That draws the wrong kind of attention. It was a very long shot that someone would connect the dots, but you could never be too careful. At least as a fop he could control what people,especially the media,said about him. All this talk about him staying out of the public eye and missing parties he usually attended was making him antsy.

And when he got antsy he often struck back. Hard.

Tonight he was going all out. He had sent Alfred to buy as much alcohol and food as he could bring back with him. "Plans for tonight, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked with a straight face but a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Bruce's response was something between a grunt and a "Yes", and then he sat down to call.. everyone. He called his old 'friends'-acquaintances that he knew because they attended the same institutions, Bruce didn't really have any friends- from prep school, high school,even college, where he tended to avoid social contact of any kind. He called up his old 'girlfriends'-women he occasionally had flings with for the sake of appearances-he even called up some of his business associates that were in town, including the one from Metropolis, Luthor.  
He had his suspicions about the man. Bruce had made it his business to study people, it was important in his line of work, as a businessman and crime fighter. And Lex Luthor made his skin crawl. Bruce always trusted his instincts because they were well honed, not to mention firmly rooted in logic and reason. If he couldn't go out on patrol tonight, he would still keep his mind sharp by watching Luthor closely. Perhaps he could get a better feel of the man by studying him in a relaxed social setting.

As he put the phone down, Bruce looked up at the large oil painting on the wall above the mantel. He had his fathers handsome, swarthy features. A chiseled jawline,tall solid build, jet black hair. But he had his mothers steel blue eyes. He looked at the boy in the middle of the painting. He looked happy. Content. Like any other 8 year old. It had been nearly twenty years since that tragic event in the alley,the night when he became someone.. no,something else. Each night in his dreams he saw them die before his eyes, each day he woke the pain,the feeling of helplessness, felt just as fresh.

He often wondered if it would ever go away.

And so each day he would train fanatically. So he could run faster,jump higher,hit harder. Be better today than he was yesterday and better tomorrow than he was today. So that he would never again feel so helpless against the cruel world that took his family from him. Never. Again. That's what they didn't understand. That's what the Batman was.

He wondered if _that_ would ever go away.

Then he heard a noise at the door, and he rushed downstairs to open it. Alfred had returned with the things, and though he insisted that he didn't need any help, Bruce helped him carry the food and drinks from the car anyway. "This is ridiculous Master Bruce. I am perfectly capable of doing this myself. If Master Thomas was here..." he mumbled. His voice trailed off as Bruce carried the boxes through the hallway into the kitchen.

He paused in the hall on his way back, looking up at the painting. What would his father think of him now,of this life that he chose? And his mother? Would they be proud? Horrified?

And would it ever go away?

9.37 PM, Smallville, 8 miles from Kent Farm  
His fingers traced the ears of wheat as he walked slowly through the field. All around him were golden bushels of the crop,swaying gently in the breeze. If he focused, he could hear the sound of his parents heartbeats several miles away.  
There was much less noise here than in Metropolis.  
He thought he had been prepared for it, but life in the big city had been harder than Clark had expected. He was overwhelmed at first. The strong smells, the loud noises, all intensified by his already inhuman senses.  
The bright lights, the tall buildings, the people who seemed to be in a great hurry to go nowhere. It had all been very confusing.  
But his parents didn't raise him to run away from a challenge.

He had stuck on and chased his dream of being a reporter. College had been a breeze, his eidetic memory and speed reading had ensured that. Some may have seen it as cheating, but he simply saw it as using whatever advantages he had. There was no need to hold back just for the sake of it. There was no need to make things harder than they already were. Getting out into the workforce had been much harder. Nothing his abilities could do for him there. Despite the fact that he had good grades, he found it difficult to secure employment. It was very competitive out there, and seemingly everyone wanted employees with prior experience. He smiled as he remembered how complex things had seemed then.

Eventually he got a job at the Daily Planet. He got lucky. An old friend of his from college, Jimmy, was working as a photographer for the Daily Planet with the up-and-coming reporter Lois Lane(even then she already had a reputation)when they met Clark working at a nearby nightclub as a bouncer. Lois had too much to drink, and when a rather shady looking character approached her,she dismissed him in typical Lois fashion with insults that cut like a knife. Jimmy, ever the good friend, intervened on her behalf. The shady character(and his equally shady but no less menacing friends)were about to lay into Jimmy for his troubles.

Clark, who heard and saw the whole thing through the walls from his position outside, walked into the room and effortlessly pummeled the gang of 8. He laughed to himself as he recalled the expression of sheer terror on the 3rd mans face when he smashed a heavy bar stool that shattered on contact and Clark stared back at the man unperturbed. Yes, he had definitely gotten lucky. The bar was mostly abandoned and the only witnesses were the unfortunate victims of the beat down and the very inebriated pair of Lois and Jimmy. Thus whenever they got to this part of the story, Clark would always claim they were very drunk and must have been imagining things. That was his first taste of heroism. It seemed like so long ago when he thought of it now. Had it only been five years?

His smile slowly faded as he remembered the events of tonight. There had been a fire at an orphanage. The fire chief later said it was an electrical fault, that the main switch somehow sparked and caught fire.

Clark heard the screams of pain from his desk at the office.

He had gotten up slowly and mumbled an excuse before Lois could ask him where he was going. As he raced up the stairs 10 at a time, he could hear Lois's voice 3 floors down saying "Somethings off with that Smallville. He's always going off somewhere like that." He put it out of his mind, he'd deal with that later. He got to the roof and all but ripped the door clean off the hinges in his haste. He tore off his clothes and stuffed them in the vent, then flew off as fast as he dared without breaking the sound barrier,he didn't want to leave shattered windows in his wake. When he landed at the orphanage he was relieved that there were some firefighters at the scene already evacuating the children from the building. He flew over to one swinging a large sledge hammer against the wall, trying to create a point of entry because the doors and windows were barred by smouldering beams. With a shared look of understanding, the man stepped back as Clark swung his fist and punched a massive hole right through the concrete.

Immediately he could smell the sickening stench of burning flesh and hair. What worried him most was the silence. There were no screams of agony or terror.

He quickly demolished the rest of the wall, then he drew in a deep breath, flew into the center of the room and blew out hard. The flames danced violently then died out, and the toxic smoke was driven out in a powerful gust of wind.

He detected a heartbeat, very faint,but it was there.

Rushing over in that direction he almost collapsed at the sight. Behind him the team of firefighters had a similar reaction. An entire room had been razed down by the flames, and it looked like none of the children had made it out alive. Judging by the size of the charred corpses strewn on the floor, these were just toddlers. He swallowed hard, floating slowly over the bodies, closing in on the weak pulse.  
He found it, or rather her. A little girl, no older than 6,curled up in a corner.

She was badly burnt,what remained of her hair and skin hung about her in messy clumps. She was bleeding from a large gash on her leg. In her hands was a blackened stump vaguely shaped like a teddy bear. When he turned her over, there was a collective gasp from the firefighters. A thin metal pole from a bed frame was lodged in her chest. Using his X-Ray vision Clark saw that her left lung had been punctured and was collapsing. Between that and her other injuries he knew there was no way she would survive.  
So he held her gently against his chest, listening to the sounds of her ragged breathing, the rattle of blood in her tiny lungs,her crying that was too low to be picked up by any ears in the room but his own. He seemed to hold her that way for a long time, unconsciously rocking back and forth as he tried in vain to soothe her immense pain. At last, as he felt her pulse start to slow and the life leaving her body, she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you Superman", and with her tiny hands she reached up to caress the big red S on his chest. Then her hands fell limp at her sides, and the blackened teddy bear landed noiselessly beside them.

That did it for everyone. They all had tears in their eyes. Some were openly weeping, so tragic was the scene they had just witnessed. Superman looked dazed, he felt like he had been hit by a freight train. He could feel the wetness forming in his eyes, so he quickly handed the child over to a paramedic who had come rushing in, and with a final nod of acknowledgement to the assembled firefighters, he took to the skies.

He flew for a long time.

Not particularly fast, just coasting along with no real destination in mind. It wasn't until he saw the familiar red house and barn that he realized he had come back home. He hovered in the air for a while, wondering if he should go inside and tell Ma and Pa about it. After some deliberation he decided against it. He didn't want to wake them, and he didn't want to burden them with his problems.

So he walked around in the fields around his childhood home,tears streaming freely down his face, and thought about the good old days when it all seemed so easy.


	2. Chapter 2

**5.15AM, Paradise Island**  
Diana woke to the sound of waves lapping on the beach and the musical chirping of the birds of the forest. She lay still for some time, savoring the peaceful moment. After a few minutes of this she finally got out of bed and slipped into her sandals and a plain white tunic. Walking over to the weapons displayed on her bedroom walls, she reached for the falchion and shield, then she went outside to practice her swordplay and defense. It was a ritual she had dearly missed.

Her busy schedule as ambassador to Themyscira made it next to impossible to give herself any free time. Her mission consumed much of it. There were always important meetings to attend,papers to sign,speeches to be given,photos to be taken. Mostly she traveled around the world on humanitarian missions. Just yesterday she went to Kenya to dig boreholes in the arid North Eastern area,flew to Libya to negotiate a ceasefire with the Rebels,and ended her travels in Russia, where she had to convince the President and his advisers that she was here to help all of humanity, not just the West.

Diana didn't think she had gotten through to him. She recognized a fellow battle-hardened warrior in him and could see that when he made a decision he brooked no dissent. He didn't seem surprised when she spoke to him in fluent Russian, her intonations and accent pitch perfect. Most people were genuinely surprised when she spoke their native tongue as though she grew up speaking it. His face remained unreadable throughout the meeting and he spoke very little. But he had at least allowed her to fly through their airspace without being harassed by the Russian Air force. That was a start.  
Her other missions had been somewhat successful, the Rebels had at least agreed to speak to her, although she didn't think the ceasefire would last very long. As it was they seemed in awe of her, whether it was her fluent Arabic(unheard of in these parts, at least from a white female),her stunning beauty or the fact that she easily deflected an RPG when they mistook her for a spy drone, she didn't know; and frankly she didn't care. She just wanted to bring an end to the madness.

The mission in Kenya had gone smoothly. She had several boreholes dug in the North Eastern region and they would service the locals well. The only hitch had been when the local politicians visited the scene hoping for photo ops and perhaps endorsements from Diana. She had been disgusted by their actions, turning up to such a poverty stricken, drought prone area with their expensive SUV's, distributing relief food as though it was a favor. What was worse, the people worshiped them like they were Gods. She couldn't blame them, most of them were uneducated and didn't know their rights, one of which was access to basic amenities such as food and water. She left soon after the politicians arrived, refusing to shake hands or even speak to them. As she flew away,her keen ears picked up the voice of one of them speaking through the PA system in the local tongue of Swahili. He was telling the villagers that there was no money to help them this year, but if they(the politicians) were re-elected they would dig more boreholes like they did today.

Diana was enraged. How dare they take credit for her hard work! She almost turned back but decided against it. It wouldn't do her or those people any good, and it wouldn't have made any difference. She was just happy they had clean drinking water.

She paused her exercises for a moment, inhaling the salty sea breeze smell. She had been at this for nearly two hours. The sun had risen and it was getting warmer. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her work as ambassador. She did, although most times it felt like an enormous chore, she truly enjoyed the work. It gave her a sense of accomplishment when she looked at all her achievements.

However she couldn't help but feel there was something missing. She had all these great gifts, wisdom from Athena,an empathetic link with animals,tracking skills and enhanced senses from the Goddess of the hunt Artemis herself,flight from Hermes,strength and durability from Demeter,an indestructible rope from the earth mother Gaea,capable of burning away deceit in all its forms,weapons forged by the God of metalwork Hephaestus. Lastly, she had the gift of great beauty,love and compassion from Aphrodite.  
But what was she doing with these gifts? Humanitarian work? Yes, it was important, yes it was part of her mission to change Man's World for the better, but was it all she could do?

In her few years in Man's World, she had heard of other heroes, people with gifts and ideals similar to hers. A being who moved at speeds that rivaled that of Hermes. Another who seemed to be a God among men, but never acting like one. His strength far surpassing that of Herakles(or Hercules as he was called in Man's World), a man who could fly and shoot fire from his eyes. She felt closest to him, though she had never met him. Perhaps it was the similarity of their abilities,or the armor they wore. Perhaps it was because he was a demigod, just like her. Perhaps it was just as simple as him being a rather good looking man,and Diana being a red-blooded woman.

Then there was another one. At first he seemed like a rumor, an 'urban legend' as her secretary told her, because no one had ever seen him; except for his alleged victims. Evidence of his activities was virtually non-existent, but the statistics were undeniable. Crime had reduced in that part of the country, and criminals were running scared to the authorities. A shadowy creature that worked in the night, preying on the criminal elements of its city, using fear for a good and noble cause. She didn't like his methods, but she could sense that he was a force for good, whatever people might think of him.

In the distance she could hear the sounds of the other Amazons performing their morning exercises. They were a race of immortal warriors, but they could be killed in battle, even Diana. So they had to train their bodies as well as practice their combat drills every day. This had been instilled in Diana from a tender age. Even though with her abilities she hardly needed any form of training, she embraced the code and became one of the fiercest and most skilled warriors on the island. Coupled with her abilities, she was a deadly opponent.

She flew up into her bedroom, sheathed the blade and mounted the shield back on the wall, then she put on her enchanted training armor. Growing up she had always been conscious of her immense strength. Many a time she had broken glasses,ripped doors off their hinges, bent and broken countless swords and shields, and even broken bones. The average Amazon was several times stronger and more durable than the average human, but Diana was at least as strong as her half brother Herakles, if not stronger. She had learned to control her strength for ordinary activities like drinking from a glass or opening doors, but it was next to impossible to rein in her strength in the heat of battle. When her mother finally grew tired of Diana breaking people's bones she prayed to Hera for guidance. In response Hera sent Diana an enchanted suit of armor that would negate her powers, and to prevent any problems, the suit would only do so if Diana willed it.

Putting on the armor reminded Diana of her mother. She didn't want to see her mother just yet. Though it had been just over 2 years since she won the contest to represent Themyscira in Man's World, Queen Hippolyta was still angry with Diana for her disobedience. Diana for her part was still angry that her mother refused to see all the good she was doing for the world, and that she still treated her like a child, though she was over 20 years old.

"But",thought Diana,"mother is over 3,000 years old. Perhaps that is why she still thinks of me as a child." Deep down Diana hoped her mother would forgive her for tricking her way into the competition, and that she would come to see that the end justifies the means, if the goal is a worthy one. She sincerely hoped so, because she knew immortals could hold a grudge for a very long time. When she finished putting on the armor, she picked up her xiphos, her favorite weapon, and a weather beaten shield, also her favorite, and flew off into the courtyard.

In the courtyard, a squad of Amazons performed calisthenics while under the supervision of instructors. One of these instructors was General Phillipus. She was dressed in a simple knee length grey tunic that showed off her smooth dark brown skin and exceptionally toned muscles. At her waist was a long pointed dagger. She was by and large the finest warrior on the island,even Diana had never bested her. She also had a reputation for being a hard taskmaster,and she walked up and down the area, watching the warriors form with a keen eye. After many a century of doing this, all the Amazons knew better than to disappoint Phillipus. The punishment would be a one on one sparring session with all the Amazons watching. No one was foolish enough to mess up, because that meant a fight-no, a beating-from Phillipus.

No one was foolish enough. Except Artemis.

She had arrived the previous night with a host of Bana-Mighdall Amazons, and as always, she got blind drunk. She woke in the morning with a foul taste in her mouth, a pounding headache,and none of her Bana companions anywhere in sight. They had been smart enough to leave the island before the morning drills. So she staggered outside and fell face first into the sea, then dragged herself out, vomited,collapsed, got up, vomited again, then crawled to the nearest line of Amazons performing warm up exercises.

So it was in this state that Phillipus found her. Reeking of vomit and stale liquor,her fiery red hair dripping with sea water and Zeus knew what else, barely going through the exercise drill. "Artemis! Drunk! What a surprise! Center Courtyard! NOW!"

At these words the other Amazons stopped what they were doing immediately, with no small relief. It had been thousands of years, but the morning workout never got any easier. They were also eager to see the fight. Artemis was one of the finest warriors on the island, certainly the fiercest of the Bana and on par with Princess Diana. The fight between Diana and Artemis for the right to wear the Sacred Armor had been a very close one indeed. Most of the Bana and not a few of the Themyscirans believed that Diana won because her father tipped the scales in her favor. Nonetheless, they were the only two that stood a chance in Tartaros against General Phillipus.

The minute Artemis spotted Phillipus, she knew this was coming. Like all Amazons, Artemis knew herself to be a capable warrior, in fact she was the best in her tribe. Like all Amazons she also knew that no one had ever beaten Phillipus in single combat. Ever. Not even Princess Diana,with her divine heritage, had managed that feat. To make it worse, Artemis was more than a little hungover. She had a fraction of a chance if she was sober. But like this? Isis help her.

It was at that moment that Diana landed in the courtyard. Artemis breathed a sigh of relief. Diana caused a bit of commotion, as nobody knew the princess had returned, and they were eager to hear her tales of her exploits in Man's World. She addressed each of them by name(she had an impeccable memory, or perhaps she was just nice like that, Artemis wasn't sure)and asked after their health(of course they're fine! Amazons don't get sick!,thought Artemis). After she worked her way through the entire crowd, Diana made her way over to Phillipus and Artemis. Ever respectful, she greeted Phillipus first, and Artemis stood awkwardly to the side as she watched the 'proud teacher-brilliant pupil' exchange. After a while Artemis cleared her throat loudly and said "I'm fine too Princess, thanks very much for asking". Phillipus glared at her. "This is your Princess, she is royalty, treat her as you would our Queen!" Diana on the other hand was amused. She had always had a strange kinship with Artemis, and they had a... history together. Artemis was the only person that knew how much Diana disliked her title. But Diana had a comeback for her."Hello Artemis. Another long night spent drinking I see. Perhaps if you didn't drink so much you would have fared better against me at the contest."

Artemis turned bright red(quite comical considering the color of her hair)and launched herself at Diana with a primal roar. Diana had been expecting this, indeed she welcomed it. Artemis had always been touchy about her pride, more so than most Amazons, and she would definitely respond to such a challenge. Artemis was very light on her feet for someone who had spent the night drinking. She tackled Diana to the ground, raising a fine cloud of dust. She threw a punch, Diana dodged it, grabbing the arm and using it as leverage before wrapping her legs around Artemis' waist and deftly flipping her onto her side. She rolled off Artemis, and still holding onto her arm, pinned her firmly to the ground.

Artemis writhed around on the ground for awhile,then she pushed herself up using one arm(with Diana still on top of her),and still using her one arm,collected some dust and threw it over her shoulder, directly into Diana's eyes. Diana coughed and pawed at her eyes, releasing Artemis from her grip. The Amazons cheered. Among them this was not considered dishonorable. The way they saw it,there was no such thing as 'honorable combat'. One did what they had to to survive. Not surprising considering their painful past at the hands of Herakles and his men.

Diana's vision cleared just in time to see a fist coming toward her. The blow rocked her head back,splitting her lip and drawing blood. Artemis threw another punch, but Diana ducked and threw a powerful uppercut punch right into Artemis' solar plexus. Artemis fell to her knees, coughing up blood, her eyes watering with pain from the force of the blow. She spat out a thick glob of blood, then asked Diana,with an unmistakable emphasis on the word Princess,"Are you sure you turned those powers off _Princess_?" "Unbelievable!" thought Diana. "Even as she is clearly in pain she still has the gall to call me that!" Instead she said,"Yes. If the armor was not working that blow would have ripped you in half." Artemis got up shakily to her feet and resumed a fighting stance. Diana knew she wouldn't surrender. Had she been in a better state of mind, Diana would have appreciated her tenacity, but as it was, Artemis was no match for her.

Lucky for Artemis and Diana, Queen Hippolyta had been watching the proceedings from her balcony in the Royal Palace, and when she saw Artemis tackle Diana she knew exactly where this was headed. Artemis was a foul mouthed hothead that drank far too much, but she was a true Amazon. She would never surrender. Diana was as close to honorable in combat as an Amazon could get, but she too was a true Amazon, she would never go easy on a fellow warrior and she would never throw a fight. That would be disrespectful to her and her opponent. So it was that Queen Hippolyta walked soundlessly into the courtyard and right up to Diana and Artemis before anyone even noticed where she came from(she had always been a very good hunter). All the Amazons, Diana included, stumbled over themselves to perform the proper show of respect.

"Rise, Princess Diana. We have much to discuss of your adventures in the Man's World. Play time can wait until later." Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked back to the Palace. The moment she left the Amazons returned to their activities as though nothing had happened. Artemis walked back to her quarters, outwardly showing no expression of pain. But Diana knew better. Once she shut the door behind her Artemis would collapse in agony into the nearest seat and grab a fat wine skin.

She would go there afterwards.

Now, she had to face what she had been trying to avoid.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: For the morality police that may read this Chapter, and get pissed off.**

 **Facts: People use drugs. Especially the super rich people in Bruce Wayne's social circles(American Psycho anyone?). People swear. And people have sex,sometimes with people of the same sex.(*cough*Amazons)**

 **This is not to suggest that Bruce Wayne uses drugs.**  
 **This is not to suggest that I promote drug (ab)use. Frankly I really don't care what people do with themselves,as long as they don't hurt others.**

 **It is to suggest that my characters are human,even the Kryptonian. Though they have awesome abilities and extraordinary lives, at their core, they are just like you and I,trying to figure out what all this life stuff is about.**

 **Also, this is an AU, so if my characters seem a little "off" from their "usual" interpretations(insert your favorite writer), its because they are.**  
 **Finally, you may have noticed that I mention Diana's heritage several times. In this Universe,all the Amazons and the Greek Pantheon know Zeus is her father, and they're OK with it for the most part. Zeus is a well known skirt-chaser in Greek Mythology. It seems ridiculous to keep it a secret that he slept with Hippolyta.**

 **Consider this note a fair warning. If you don't like it, turn back now.**  
************************************************** *****************************************************

 **10.15AM, Gotham, Wayne Manor**  
His head was pounding. He opened his eyes slightly, and a blinding white light forced its way through. He groaned loudly,pulling the sheets up and over his head. He could feel warmth next to him. He peeked his head over the covers to find four women asleep in his bed, two on either side. If the sensations under the sheets were anything to go by, they were all naked as the day they were born.

He surveyed the rest of the room. He was quite certain he was still in Wayne Manor, it looked like his master bedroom, only his master bedroom didn't have a giant inflatable zebra wearing glasses inside it. His alcohol addled brain simply couldn't put it all together. This was why he avoided throwing parties. It looks strange if a hedonistic billionaire doesn't drink at his own party,but alcohol dulled his mental and physical faculties. He made a mental note, next time he would drink ginger ale instead of champagne. Or grape juice instead of wine. They looked and tasted about the same, no one would suspect a thing. Either way, he wasn't drinking again. Ever.

As he took a deep breath he picked up on a familiar scent. Honey and cinnamon. And freshly brewed coffee. He got out of bed and followed the smell,nearly tripping over a large ceramic bong.  
"Is this a.. bong? Is there a bong in my bedroom?" he asked the room of sleeping women.

No reply. Whatever he took they took a lot more. The smell led him to his dresser cabinet. Among the empty bottles of liquor,the cigarette butts and white lines of powder(he sincerely hoped he had the sense to stay away from that); he found a fruit platter, a pot of coffee and a plate of cinnamon rolls, still hot. On the tray was a note written in Alfred's perfect handwriting. It read:

 _Good morning Master Wayne,_  
 _As you have doubtless discovered, the party last night was a resounding success. I do believe I heard some of the Society Page writers compare it to the fictional Jay Gatsby's house parties, and that they would talk about this party for weeks to come.-Here Bruce afforded himself a small smile that instantly vanished as he read the last line-. PS: A Miss Zatanna Zatarra stopped by to see you, but you were rather...indisposed shall we say, with the four stunning women you went to bed with. Needless to say she was none too pleased and left soon after._ (here Bruce could literally feel Alfred's tone of disapproval).

And just like that,the previous nights events came flooding back. In his minds eye, he saw it all, in stunning detail. It was like watching an extra long sex scene from Game of Thrones.

And when it was over, he felt like the king of sleaze.

"Shit", he said, to no one in particular.

 **11.37AM. Metropolis,The Daily Planet**

"...so what do you think? Smallville? Smallville? CLARK!"

Clark jumped at the sound of his name. He had zoned out. Again. He had been doing that a lot lately.

"uh, that's great Lois.."

Lois rolled her eyes. She hadn't actually been saying anything. She had just noticed Clark zoning out and she decided to test him. As an investigative reporter with her eye on a Pulitzer, Lois was always on the prowl for a story. Always. Not that Clark had a story that was Pulitzer-worthy, he was just a farm boy from a small town in God knows where. Now Superman, that was one interesting man. It was her that first came up with his name. He was certainly worth a Pulitzer prize, but he was so secretive. He was forthcoming about his origins and his abilities, but he shut down completely whenever she got too personal, which she had been doing a lot lately. It was just a force of habit for Lois to sniff out a story, no matter if it was big or small. She thought of it as practice, to keep her skills sharp. Right now her gut was telling her there was something up with Clark. Lois was very stubborn, it was how she got ahead in life. She simply refused to give up.

She had been observing Clark for some time now. He would always disappear at the strangest times. He hardly spoke unless it was absolutely necessary. He walked with a slouch, but he acted with a quiet confidence that told Lois he obviously wasn't suffering from a low self-esteem. It was almost as though he didn't want to draw attention to himself, which was strange, because as far as Lois was concerned, he was an unremarkable man. What did he have to hide? Lois was determined to find out.

Clark wasn't stupid. He knew Lois was onto him. He wasn't worried either. He knew she didn't have anything on him. He also knew exactly what she thought of him, that he was a lunkhead hick from a backwater town who played high school and college football but wasn't good enough to make the NFL cut,so he worked as a bouncer at some nightclub. They had been working together for years, but he was fairly certain she didn't know any of his academic credentials. She didn't even know that he never played football a day in his life. With his abilities he would've hospitalized the entire opposition, and that was a best case scenario. She was suspicious, that was all. Lois was only stubborn IF she thought there was a story somewhere. So Clark played along, for now. He knew she would find it doubly suspicious if he was suddenly alert and responsive after years of strange behavior; that culminated in his hasty, unusual departure last night. So he continued stringing her along, pretending to zone out. When the time was right he would find a way to kill her interest. That would be easily done using his alter ego. Her obsession with him was as alien to him as he was to mankind. He almost felt bad about using her like that. Almost.

 **12.22PM,Paradise Island**

Queen Hippolyta seemed just as eager to get the conversation started as Diana was, which is to say, she wasn't eager at all. It wasn't 1 o'clock just yet,but Hippolyta ordered the maidservants to set the table for lunch. Diana was pleased. Not only because it stalled the 'talk' that would inevitably turn into a heated argument, but she hadn't had anything to eat since she woke that morning at dawn. The food was delicious, as always. Everything was fresh, as always. Fruit and vegetables from the farms, fish caught from the sea just minutes ago; prepared just the way Diana liked it, with a crispy outside and tender inside, and lots of butter spread on it. Cheese of all kinds with several loaves of bread still warm from the oven. Olive oil from virgin trees to drizzle over everything. And to wash it all down,a special batch of extra strong Themysciran wine(the only wine that could actually intoxicate Diana).

She seated herself and got down to the serious business of stuffing her face. Hippolyta cleared her throat, indicating Diana should wait until the Queen had seated herself before she commenced with her eating. Diana blushed and dropped her bread in a gesture that warmed Hippolyta's heart. When she was but a little girl she would do the exact same thing. Phillipus would train her hard from the crack of dawn to the late afternoon. She received the finest education available in martial arts,fencing,hunting,tracking,stealth,archery,horse riding and swimming. Poor little Diana would return home every evening ravenous from her exertions. At these times she would often forget her position as Princess, and she would eat like a pig,abandoning all manners and etiquette training. And whenever Hippolyta chided her for her behavior, she would blush and instantly drop whatever she was eating, usually bread,because Diana loved the smell and taste of freshly baked bread.

It was little things like that, that made Hippolyta still see Diana as her baby girl. In truth Diana had stopped being a girl some few years ago, but Hippolyta had refused to recognize this. All mothers go through this period, where they are in denial that their children are no longer children. But not all mothers are immortal Queens with the power to keep their children close to them almost indefinitely.

But Hippolyta was. If it wasn't for the contest decreed by the Gods(which she often suspected had been a plot orchestrated by Zeus),Hippolyta doubted Diana would have left Paradise Island. She pulled herself out of her reverie when she noticed that Diana and the servants were all watching her with a strange look on their faces. She realized she had been standing still, her eyes fixed on Diana the whole time. With several centuries experience at saving face, she sat down slowly, acting as though nothing untoward had happened. The servants proceeded to serve her, pouring the wine first so Hippolyta could decide if it was good enough. She sniffed the glass and took a large gulp, then gave the slightest of nods to the wine maiden.

Diana ate with relish once the servants were dismissed, but she kept an eye on her mother as well. She might be a toddler compared to the other Amazons, but she knew her mother more intimately than most of them. She knew exactly what had been going through Hippolyta's mind when she froze in time like that. The subject was bound to come up any moment now, so in the meantime she ate as much as she could, because when she left there was no place she would get food this good.

Hippolyta on her part was content to drink a glass of wine. She rarely ate heartily. In her days as a warrior she had a considerable appetite, but it had been a very,very,very long time since she last swung a sword in battle. She still trained every morning though, she didn't want to get rusty. But life as a politician was more mentally taxing than physically. She could see that it was wearing Diana down. She had always been a woman of action,at her finest in the cut and thrust of battle. Books had never quite fulfilled anything for her, though she would have been a brilliant scholar if she had shown more interest.

Hippolyta set down her wineglass with an air of gravity, but before she could speak, Diana interrupted her.

"Before you say anything mother, I would just like to thank you for what you did with Artemis and I. I do not know what I would have done had you not intervened."

Hippolyta waved her hand dismissively.

"It was nothing child, Artemis is a proud warrior, she would never surrender. Neither would you, but I imagine it would be difficult to strike her down, considering the past you share."

Diana's eyes widened in shock. She tried to school her features, but it was too late.

"Oh come now, Diana. Do not look so surprised. There is not a thing that goes on in this island that I do not know about. I have eyes everywhere."

"How could you mother? You spied on me? On us?"

"Do not be so dramatic, child. I did not need spies to tell me the obvious. I would be a poor mother indeed and an even poorer Queen if I did not notice the way you would hold each others eyes across a room, the way Artemis' face would soften whenever she saw you, how you would light up whenever you heard her voice. Shall I go on?"

Diana was horrified. She had no idea their little affair was so plain to see. Hippolyta laughed at the expression on her daughter's face. She came round to her and stroked her long ebony tresses in a rare show of affection.

"Worry not, my moon and stars. It was not as open as you think it was. It is only because I am your mother that it was so clear to me. Besides, Artemis is a fierce warrior, a loyal soul and a fine looking woman to boot. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Why, when I was your age I-"

"Mother!" Diana was scandalized. As if it wasn't strange enough discussing her love life with her mother, now she was going to hear about HER love life. No child wants to hear that. No child wants to think about their parents romantic lives before their birth.

Hippolyta laughed again. Diana hadn't realized how much she missed that laugh until she heard it.

"Oh very well then. Tell me, what of your travels in Man's World? How goes the mission?"

Surprisingly, there was no mocking lilt or patronizing tone in the Queens voice. Its a trap, thought Diana.

"The mission goes well mother. The work is difficult at times, it is not what I expected, but I do enjoy it."

Hippolyta nodded her assent. "But?",said the Queen. Diana looked at her blankly. "Diana, I know you all too well. It is true, you are content with the work you are doing in Man's World, but I feel there is something you are not telling me."

Diana sighed, and told the Queen about the previous days events, as well as other challenges she had been facing in her mission;mainly the frustratingly long-winded way bureaucrats dealt with simple matters, and the complex politics behind seemingly rational decisions. She listened patiently, and she understood what it was Diana was going through. She would never admit it out loud, but Hippolyta sometimes missed the old days when she was just another face in the crowd. True, it was a great honor and privilege to lead her people and watch over them, but as the old saying goes, Heavy is the Head that wears the Crown. Ruling over people was hard work. She had the final say over everything, she made all the decisions, her subjects had to live with the consequences of the mistakes she made, but she had to live with herself knowing that ultimately she was responsible for it.

She had never forgiven herself for what happened over 3,000 years ago,indeed she doubted if she ever would. Her decision to let Herakles and his men into the city had been the worst mistake of her life. It had cost her Antiope, her beloved sister. It had cost her the trust of her fellow Amazons, some of whom she knew for a fact had never forgiven her for her error. It had caused all of them untold pain and suffering. It was the reason why there were two tribes, Bana-Mighdallian and Themiscyran Amazons. The humiliation, the memory of that betrayal, it never went away. Everyday she saw the images of the horrors they endured under Herakles. She knew it was the same for all the other Amazons. It didn't matter how long they lived. They would never get over it.

When Diana was born she had been the much needed light in the Amazons lives, especially her mother's. It had been so long since a child had been on the island, and most of them loved her. There were those who were afraid or jealous because of her gifts and her divine heritage. Nothing could be done about that. Luckily those Amazons were in the minority,and they feared her father too much to every try to harm Diana.

Hippolyta always knew Diana was destined for greatness, it is always so with the children of the Gods. But like any mother, she wanted to shelter her child from the harshness of the World. She wanted Diana to maintain her purity, and she thought that if she could just keep her on Paradise Island, she would achieve this. And for a time, it worked. But Diana was over 20 years old now, she stopped being an innocent child such a long time ago.

When Hera decreed that there would be a contest to determine an Amazon Champion who would act as a representative to the Island, Hippolyta knew exactly what the Gods, particularly Zeus, was doing. It was the reason she had expressly forbidden Diana from competing. But stubborn girl that she was("Just like her mother" Phillipus had said with a smile),she disobeyed her, donning a mask and her enchanted armor to appear like any other Amazon competing.

She had won of course, posting the best scores alongside Artemis in all events. They both came top of their tribe in archery, the cross country run through the mystical forests,the 100 lap swim around the island,the 5,000 repetitions calisthenics drill,the horse race, hiking in the mountains carrying packs filled with boulders,navigated their way through the booby trapped labyrinth;and were the last women standing in the unarmed combat course and the armed combat course, before Diana finally beat Artemis in what was probably the bloodiest,longest and most evenly matched one-on-one fight in Amazonian history. It was a contest that would have killed the hardiest of men, but Amazons were much stronger and more durable than normal humans, and by sundown most of the competitors injuries were healing. In a few days they would be good as new.

When Hippolyta stood and ordered the Amazon to step forth and receive her prize, she almost collapsed when Diana took off her masked helmet. The entire Coliseum gasped, then became deathly silent,then the crowds exploded with excitement,cheering Diana like she had just scored the winning touchdown at the Superbowl. Artemis let loose a stream of Greek curse words,then forced herself up, limped over to Diana and embraced her in a bear hug, hoisting her off the ground with surprising ease for someone who had spent the entire day performing a physically and mentally punishing test.

Hippolyta's face was impassive, but internally so many thoughts and emotions were running through her mind. Pride, that her daughter withstood the brutal test and overcame it, pain, that her daughter would go behind her back and disobey a direct order. Mostly it was anger, that she had been so stupid and didn't foresee Diana doing something like this.

Still, Diana had won the contest and as Queen she had to present the prize, which was a suit of armor,the golden lasso of Gaea,a massive shield and a xiphos that had one bronze blade and one steel blade on either side, all forged by Hephaestus himself. As Diana put on the armor, Hippolyta noticed there was a silver circlet on the mantel. She was certain it had not been there before. On it was a single red star. She gave the crown to her daughter and noted that the outfit looked perfect on her. The crowd cheered loudly again, and Diana raised the sword in answer. Despite herself Hippolyta smiled slightly, but quickly schooled her features into an impassive expression when Diana turned to face her.

Because they had never done anything like this before, the Amazons did what anyone else would do in such a situation. They threw a party. There was plenty of food and the wine flowed freely. Everyone was happy. Except Hippolyta and Artemis. Hippolyta was cold and distant to Diana,ignoring her for the most part and speaking to her in a harsh and clipped tone. Artemis, sure as Christmas, drank far too much and went on a rampage. She had to be escorted to her quarters by Diana after she floored every single person that tried to stop her from drinking more wine. There they had a heated argument where some very harsh things were said, followed by violent alcohol fueled sex, then Diana left her sleeping.

It was the last time she had seen her.

When she returned to her quarters, she found Hippolyta waiting for her, and another heated argument ensued,where even harsher things were said. Diana left the island soon after that, returning sporadically only for her training that she would need in diplomatic skills, and to tie up the loose ends on the formation of an embassy and other official matters. And whenever she and Hippolyta spoke, it would always turn into an argument.

It had taken her a few years( an eye-blink to an old soul like Hippolyta) but she had finally come to accept Diana's mission, and she decided she would support her in any way she could.

"..but it's more than that mother. There are other people like me in Man's World. They call them 'superheroes'. Beings with godlike abilities, using them to help the world." Here Diana described the heroes she had heard of.

"I see. And you wish to be like these heroes?"

"Yes" Diana blurted out before she realized what she was saying.

"And what is stopping you?", asked the Queen.

Diana was a little taken aback. She had just admitted to a desire she wasn't fully aware of, and now her mother seemed to be listening to her, rather than shouting her down.

"Well, these heroes, they are celebrated by a few, but it seems as though most people hate and fear them. The one they call Superman, he has never taken a life, and yet the governments of the World treat him as a being to be feared and distrusted. Why do they do this? What has he ever done except help them?"

Hippolyta noted the passion with which Diana defended this Man. She was more than a little disconcerted, but she didn't want to ruin the progress they had made. A full hour without argument was an achievement.

"Man has always feared what he cannot understand, and he has always been afraid of those that were different from him. This Man you describe, he falls under both of these categories. Perhaps that is why they treat him with such suspicion. In any case, if a demigod with the abilities you have described was to appear on Themyscira today, would you welcome him with open arms?" Hippolyta watched her daughters reaction keenly.

"Well.. no, but.. I would form an opinion of him based on the merit of his actions and the strength of his character before I passed judgement on him. He has lived on Earth all his life and that is how mankind treats him, what would they think of me if I interfered with their troubles? Already they fear me..." Diana realized too late what she had revealed.

"WHAT?! They fear you! Those ungrateful mortals! What have you done except serve them? How long has this been going on? And why am I only hearing of this now?" The Queen was livid.

"Mother,calm down! You will scare the servants. It is nothing I cannot handle, most of them are religious zealots who believe I am a pagan demon of sorts." She didn't want to tell her mother about the hate mail she had been receiving. The death threats,the media that camped outside the embassy and followed her every move. The tabloids that speculated over which celebrity she was dating. The vile e-mails and letters from husbands,wives,teenage boys and girls, and randy prison inmates... No, it was better she not know about those things.

"Diana, if you are afraid to jump, then that is exactly when you should jump. I was in denial about your fate for a long time. In truth I knew you were special the day you were born. Your gifts are meant to be shared with the world,not to be shackled to this Paradise like a bird in a gilded cage. It took me a long time to accept it, but I see that now. Please, daughter, do not doubt yourself like I doubted you."

Diana was touched by her words, and she embraced her mother tightly. They stayed this way for a few moments, just a mother embracing her child.

"I suppose you want to go see Artemis now".

Diana nodded.

"Very well then, I won't keep you waiting." She released her and watched her fly out the window.

 **A/N: It doesn't take much to leave a review. Let me know what you think of the story. It's nice to feel appreciated for all the effort.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is just a filler to wrap up Diana's "homecoming" run. The next few chapters will be longer and have the Trinity,possibly other heroes coming together.  
**

 **Read and Review.**

 **2.00 PM, Paradise Island, Bana- Mighdall Quarter**  
Almost immediately after leaving the training courtyard, Artemis headed straight for the tavern. She was in pain from her little skirmish with Diana, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. Physical pain was something all warriors had to live with on a regular basis. It was the emotional anguish of seeing Diana again that drove her to the tavern. They had been lovers, many years ago.

It had started out as a casual relationship, when Diana first met Artemis they didn't take to each other at all. Gradually each became intrigued by the other. Diana was barely 18 at the time and having grown up all her life among Themyscirans, she had never interacted with other Amazon tribes. She was drawn to Artemis because she was brash, loud-mouthed,rebellious.  
In other words, the exact opposite of any Themysciran. The Bana were much more relaxed than Themyscirans in some aspects, though they were devoted to almost fanatical levels in others. They were more warlike,violent and hated Men with even greater passion, but even by Bana standards Artemis was a hell raiser. Her wild flaming red hair,tattooed brown skin and sea green eyes didn't hurt either.

Artemis on her part was drawn to Diana because she felt the need to protect her. Diana was the only "pure" Amazon. She knew what Herakles did to them, but she had not experienced anything like it first-hand. In many ways this made her better than the rest of them(though few would admit it out loud) because it meant she had no bias. She didn't have a skewed outlook on things. This was refreshing for Artemis, but it could also be a chore. Their personalities couldn't be any more different if they tried. Still, they shared common interests,like their love for fighting,swimming,good wine and food.

There was also the fact that Diana was stunningly beautiful. Not the fierce, almost feral beauty other Amazons possessed, but a perfect,delicate beauty,like a well made sculpture. Many a time when they were alone together Artemis would get lost in those deep blue eyes, or run her hands endlessly over Diana's perfect buxom figure. Inevitably, after yet another day spent competing in various physical disciplines,Diana accompanied Artemis back to the Bana quarter of the island where they got drunk and slept together.

It was supposed to be a one time event to resolve the now swelling sexual tension, but for many years after that they continued their intimate relations. If the other Amazons were aware of it they said nothing of it. Over time they began confiding in one another, each learning things about the other. For Diana it remained a purely casual relationship with a strong bond of friendship. For Artemis however... well she wasn't quite sure what it was, but it certainly wasn't just sex for her. She felt there was something more there, something deeper.

The day of the contest, she had known it was Diana under that mask long before everyone else did. She couldn't see her face, and much of her body was covered in armor, but she just knew it was her.  
Who else could slice through the water with such gracefulness,as though she spent her whole life swimming in it? Who else rode her horse with such easy confidence?  
Who else fought like she was dancing,her movements fluid and perfectly synchronized?  
Who else could loose arrows with such accuracy,cut through hordes of fierce warriors with skill and power that were dazzling to behold?

Only Diana.

After their intense battle, during which neither had given the other any quarter, Artemis was conflicted. She hated losing as much(if not more)as any Amazon. But that wasn't the reason for her troubles. Diana winning the contest meant that she would leave her,leave Themyscira for the cess-pit that was the Outer World. Artemis had grown very fond of Diana in their years of friendship and romance, and she didn't want to lose her. At the same time, she knew she was responsible for this,at least a little bit. For many years Artemis had been pushing Diana to grow some backbone and stop following orders "like a mindless sheep". In the course of their relationship Diana had revealed her desire to be free, to be treated with respect, like the adult she was, instead of the way her mother treated her at the time.

In truth, their relationship-whatever it was-had been good for the both of them. Artemis had made a strong impression on Diana(good or bad depending on your viewpoint), giving her some much needed fire in her blood, and a sense of conviction. Diana on her part, though younger, had given Artemis a sense of stability,duty and,when she was around, Artemis drank a lot less. Which wasn't saying much, because she still drank quite a bit, even when it was reduced.

The night before her abrupt departure, they had exchanged some very bitter words. Artemis closed her eyes as she remembered what happened.

"...you are a fool Diana! You know nothing of the evils of Man's World, their greed,their hatred for all that is different from them. You think they will welcome you with open arms? Ass! Your Mother the Queen opened her heart and the city gates for Men once, long ago. They raped us,for days on end! They plundered and pillaged our great city! Herakles,your half brother was responsible for the death of Antiope. And now another demigod wants to bring down destruction on all of us! Have you gone mad?! Half God or not, you are just as bad as Herakles and the rest of them!"

At this point thunder boomed seemingly out of nowhere,and in a rare event,Artemis for once looked like she feared for her life. Diana gave her best "Be Cool" face to Artemis. It wouldn't do to anger Zeus, or the rest of the Pantheon. Many had been struck by lightning from clear blue skies for saying less.

"You make no sense Artemis! First you say that I should challenge my Mothers authority more,that I should forge my own path and get out of her shadow. When I finally do that in the clearest way possible, you insult me and speak to me as though I were an insolent child. Perhaps doing something for the good of all mankind is too much for you to fathom, because you hate them so much. You say that I want to ruin you like my brother Herakles did, simply because we are both demigods. Tell me Artemis, what makes you any better than him? You hate all of humanity for the sins of a few, do you think that is a good or fair thing?

Yes,my mother did make a mistake in opening the city gates for Herakles and his men, and he did to all of you the worst thing a man could ever do to a woman,for that I make no excuses on his behalf. But you forget, I am not Herakles, I am not my mother. It is true I will make mistakes, many of them, I will not always be right. But I would rather be wrong, make mistakes and learn from them,grow stronger for it, than live eternally, wallowing in anger,self-pity and drunkenness."

Artemis was stunned into silence, her face was white with rage. And pain. But mostly rage. She didn't think Diana was capable of such severity in her words and tone. She also didn't know she was so perceptive.  
"Then again, you have nothing in your heart but blackness. There was a time when I thought it was not so..Perhaps I am naive.. But it is clear to me now. You are incapable of feeling anything besides lust and wrath. Goodbye Artemis."

She had flown away, and Artemis had never seen or heard from her again.

Until today.

She was staring down at her goblet of wine when someone approached her table and sat down across from her. She didn't have to look, but she knew who it was. Only 2 people were woman enough to sit down at her table when she was drinking by herself,and this certainly wasn't Phillipus. The tension in the room was so thick you could scarcely breathe. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked up from her wine.

"Artemis".

"Princess".

"A little early in the day to be drinking so hard, don't you think?"

"A little early in the day to be such a condescending bitch, don't you think?"

Upon hearing this all the Amazons in the tavern emptied their goblets of wine and shuffled out of the room in a hurry. Even the bartender left the room. These were two of the finest warriors on the Island. No one wanted to be caught between them if a fight broke out.

Diana knew for a fact that what others may see as barely controlled rage was really just Artemis when she was slightly miffed,so she picked up a bottle of wine and poured herself a generous serving. She drained the goblet in one gulp and refilled it. Despite herself Artemis smiled.

"I see your time in Man's World has not made you soft. You still drink and fight like a warrior. What I wonder is, can you still fuck like one?" Artemis had always been increasingly foul mouthed as she got drunk.

Diana smiled at this,"There has been no opportunity for me to engage in combat in Man's World, my work is largely diplomatic and official. As for the wine,even the strongest alcohol made by mortal men is far too weak to have any effect on me." Artemis noticed she had sidestepped her question entirely.

"Why did you return Diana? Is Man's World not as you expected?" There was a slightly patronizing tone in her voice, but Diana chose to ignore it.

"I have missed my home. Life on the outside is not as I expected,but I knew it would be a difficult task. It is stressful. It seems like there is so much to do and so little time in which to do it. The World has so many problems afflicting it. At times it feels like a never ending battle. I returned for some R n R, as they say on the outside."

"What does that mean?"

"Rest and Relaxation."

"So I am to understand this is a temporary visit?"

"Yes. I am leaving today."

There was a brief pause as they both drained their goblets and refilled them.

"If Man's World is as plagued with issues as you say, and the work is difficult and stressful, why not return to Themyscira? Why burden yourself with their problems? They are not your concern, they are not your people."

"They are my concern, they are my people. That is the work of the Amazon Champion. To make the world, the whole world, a better place for everyone in it. I miss this place, that is true, but I cannot abandon my duties. You of all people should know that. I cannot give up even when the task seems impossible, it is not in my nature,it never has been and it never will be."

Artemis clapped sarcastically. "Very good princess. Rousing speech. Except it is all lies. You abandoned abandoned your own people to help those who probably do not even care for you,do not know who you really are, inside and out."

"I hardly abandoned the Amazons. We are not helpless. We are immortal. We have the means to defend ourselves. We do not lack basic things like food,water,shelter. We do not fall sick. Our bodies never age or deteriorate. We are not at war. We do not suffer from a corruption of morals. We do not have greedy self-serving politicians. We do not discriminate against each other. We do not suffer from natural disasters. The Gods themselves watch over us. This place is a Paradise. No Artemis, I think what you mean is I have abandoned YOU."

Silence. They had come straight to the issue now. They both drained their glasses and refilled them.

"Yes, Diana, once again you have said things exactly as they are. But we both know I am not one to talk about my feelings. And the last time we spoke, you seemed to think I lacked the capacity to feel.. what was it you said? "You are incapable of feeling anything besides lust and wrath." Yes, I think that was it."

"I...regret the things I said that night. I was upset. I could understand my mothers unhappiness, but I thought that you,as a friend, would be happy for me.. That I had finally done something for myself, that I was spreading my wings."

"You thought wrong Princess. I never wanted you to leave me. I still think you are incredibly selfish for doing that. I..I loved you very much. I still do. If you really were a true friend,if you really loved me, you would forfeit your title and return to us. to me."

Now Diana had enough. She had tried to be patient, but she had forgotten just how pig-headed Artemis could be.

"You are such a hypocrite Artemis. You ask me to forfeit my title as Champion, to give up on my mission? Tell me something,lover"-she said the word as if it was an insult-"what if you had won the contest? You would have left as well.  
Left us,left me. Did you ever stop to think of that? How it would affect me? Of course you didn't. Isn't that just as selfish? To ask me to abandon my duties because you miss my presence,yet you would have done the very same thing? Do you know why it is that I kept our relationship casual,even when I knew how you felt? Because at your core, you are a selfish and needy person. You always want to take, but are never willing to give. You shut your emotions off when it suits you. That is not how love works Artemis,and that is certainly not how I work. I am sorry that I have to leave it this way again,but I can see you are not yet ready to accept the truth. Goodbye Artemis."

And just like the last time, Diana walked to the window and flew out into the sky.

After some time,Artemis got up and hobbled over to the counter. She grabbed as many bottles of wine as she could carry, then limped all the way to her quarters. When she got there,she found she didn't feel much like drinking,so she smashed every single bottle, and for only the second time in her life, she allowed herself to cry.


	5. Chapter 5

**12.47 AM, Downtown Gotham City**

It had been a quiet night so far. The criminal elements were lying low for the most part, with good reason. These past few months it seemed the Batman had been coming down extra hard on their activities. It was like he was everywhere. Every heist, every shady deal, every kidnapping, even the small time drug dealers and purse thieves were not safe. The GCPD had their hands full with the sheer amount of thugs he was sending their way, so much so that they couldn't even find time to hunt down the vigilante. Not that they wanted to, but it was all politics. THe Gotham City Police Department was perhaps the most corrupt in the country. Nearly every officer on the force was on the take, whether it was Police Commissioner McCluskey from the crime families or a lowly beat cop from a small time drug pusher.

Then there were members of the force that didn't hesitate to kill. In some ways he couldn't blame them. The crime in Gotham was spiraling out of control. Even with his valiant efforts for the past few years, he knew he was barely making a dent in it. He knew that when he was gone it would have made no difference in the end, but he kept at it. For as long as he was alive, he was going to give criminals a reason to fear the night.

The pimps, drug dealers, petty criminals,they were all controlled by two major families, the Falcone's and the Maroni's. Most of them had been running scared ever since the Batman came on the scene. He knew the families were losing money. They were starting to become more proactive in their responses.

Just a few weeks ago he had barely survived what was clearly a plan to have him assassinated at the hands of the GCPD SWAT team. That was when he knew they were pissed off. Were it not for the timely intervention of Detective Jim Gordon and a little creativity on his part, he would have died on the spot.

Jim Gordon.  
He was an enigma to say the least. Bruce did his research on him when he got back to the cave, as Alfred fussed over him, stitching the bullet holes and applying alcohol to various cuts,scrapes and burns, though he insisted it wasn't necessary.

"I have training in the medical field Master Bruce. It would be a waste if I let those skills go to waste when you present such a fine opportunity for me to practice them."

Bruce grunted his assent.

"I was lucky tonight Alfred. I was saved by a cop. A Gotham cop. Can you believe that?"

"Stranger things have happened sir. We are living in an age of aliens and demigods. An honest police officer in Gotham is not as odd as you might imagine."

"Computer, look up Jim Gordon, badge NO 31776,GCPD."

Bruce was rarely surprised, but at that moment he was.  
According to the information on screen, Jim Gordon was quite a man,his exploits read like a movie script. He was former US Army Special Forces,a highly decorated Army Ranger. He was a recent addition to the GCPD,working on a task force as a detective.

His mind went into an analytical mode immediately. Why would the GCPD, the most inept police force in the state, hire a former Ranger as a detective? To shut down the crime families? Highly unlikely. He was vastly overqualified for that job, and the GCPD was too compromised to ever go after them. That left only one option. He was hired with the sole intention of hunting down the Batman.

Bruce had great confidence in his abilities. He had spent a lot of time, money and effort acquiring his numerous skills, so he wasn't worried that a former Spec-Ops man was on his tail.

But if Gordon had been brought in to take him down, why did he save his life? A man of his caliber would have no qualms killing the enemy if it came to that. So why did he help him? Was it an honor code that prevented him from doing it?  
Perhaps. If Gordon was a straight shooter(and he certainly seemed like it)he probably wanted to bring in the Batman as opposed to taking him down. Bruce suspected it was more than that. Whatever it was, he was dealing with a decent man here,and that was a good thing.

Whether he liked it or not, the Batman needed allies. There was only so much Bruce could do on his own. He could hunt down the criminals,scare them, beat them into submission, but he couldn't prosecute them in a court of law and he couldn't force the GCPD to follow due process. For that he needed inside men. Somehow, he would have to get at Gordon and convince him they could work better together.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the crackle of static on the Police scanner in his car. A break in at the Cartier jewellery store on 54th and Main. He fired up the car and the engine roared to life,rattling the trashcans standing beside it. He sped off down the street,tearing through the sleeping city like a bat out of hell.

 **12.47AM, Downtown Gotham  
** Jim Gordon had just been on his way home when he heard the report on his scanner. He cursed to himself. Crime never slept. Even at this hour, when most of the city was deep asleep, criminals still worked. He had been in Gotham for well over a year now and he was accustomed to the incredibly high crime rate. Lately nighttime crimes were almost non-existent though. Criminals were afraid of operating at night, because of the vigilante, Batman. He seemed to have redoubled his efforts.

He turned his car around and stepped on the accelerator, going as fast as he dared. If he had heard the report, it was almost certain the Batman had heard it too. He wasn't quite sure how he did it, but he suspected the vigilante had access to Police frequencies, or a personal scanner. Jim didn't know what to make of this Bat-character.

Officially, the government and Police Department denied his existence,and he knew the rest of the country thought he was a myth. Until a year ago he had thought the same thing. A Bat-like creature skulking in the shadows, hunting down the seedier elements of a city? He had seen some things in his day,covert operations of magnitudes the average civilian wasn't even aware of,operations that kept them safe in their beds at night.

But this? He would never have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself.

At first he had hated the Batman. He had believed he was a sophisticated criminal,one of those super-villain types that had sprung up shortly after the birth of superheroes, like a deformed twin.

After a few weeks in Gotham he was already thinking otherwise. The GCPD was rotten to the core. Compromised from the ground up. The judicial system wasn't much better. It seemed everyone was owned by the criminals. He quickly abolished the notion that the Batman was a super-villain,but that didn't mean he had stopped thinking of him as an enemy. He began studying him intensively.

Like any good soldier,Jim Gordon knew that you had to know your enemy.

He looked up all the records.  
The first sightings of Batman had happened just over 5 years ago, when Gotham was at its worst.

It had been a regular period for the most part. There had been nothing out of the ordinary,save for the appearance of the alien superhero in Metropolis, aptly named Superman.  
In Gotham it was business as usual. The Gotham Knights had lost their game against the Coast City Sharks.  
A newspaper editor mysteriously disappeared after writing a scathing critique on the Maroni crime family.  
Carmine Falcone's top lieutenant Ivan 'Crazy Ivan' Brasi had been acquitted of all charges in a triple homicide after a key witness was found dead in his hotel room.

The cause of death?  
Drowning.  
In a bathtub.

In the society pages, Bruce Wayne, the prince of Gotham, returned from his studies and travels abroad. He had been gone for nearly 10 years. Gotham city's elite(read rich people)were going to throw him an extravagant party.

The rich and pampered, saved from the harsh realities of life by their fat stacks of money. I should have been a wealthy heir, thought Gordon.

He couldn't find much that would be of any help. Sightings were few and far between. Civilians claimed he was everything from a demon to a vampire. The GCPD wasn't much help either. They didn't exactly file accurate reports. Probably too busy taking bribes.

Eventually he stopped,it was pointless trying to gather information this way. He fell back on his military training. In the field,Rangers often had limited information on their targets. They had to use their skills,wits and whatever tools they had to gain more knowledge. That was exactly what Jim Gordon did. Throughout that year, he observed Batman as best he could.

In a way he respected Batman for what he was doing. He was just one man, trying to make a difference in his city. Here was someone who was tired of the corruption,the crime, the criminals ruling over innocent people;and taking it upon himself to change this. Noble intentions indeed. The only problem Gordon had with the Batman was that what he was doing was highly illegal, and it wasn't in his nature to trust people who dressed up as bats and beat on criminals late into the night. For all he knew he could be dealing with a deranged psychotic freak that has a twisted moral code. It wouldn't be the first time.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

A massive armored black car zoomed past Gordon's squad car, barreling down the streets at incredible speed. He was easily clocking 180 on a narrow street. He did his best to keep up with the car.

As he did so he noted that the Batman was a very capable driver, and one that knew the layout of the city very well, judging by how the car seemed to slow down and speed up at the perfect times. Either that or he had a really good GPS. Finally the car came to a stop before him. A panel on the roof slid back and a large black mass leaped out,cape billowing,landing quietly on its feet.

All this before Gordon had even stopped the car.  
As he pulled out his service revolver, he wondered if the Batman was former CIA. He certainly had some form of training. People don't just teach themselves to do things like that.

He decided to wait outside. No use muscling in on this operation. Observe and report.

 **INSIDE THE JEWELLERY STORE..**

"Hurry up Kev!"

"Shut the fuck up! You raped the clerk Johnny, and you fucking killed her! What the fuck man! She was old enough to be your mother! What are you, some kind of psycho-killer with a mommy porn fetish!? You know what the Bat is going to do to us now? He's going to bury us. I sincerely hope she was worth it, because if we live through whats coming in about 5 seconds you'll be lucky if you can ever take a piss without a catheter!"

"I'm sorry man, I didn't know what I was doing! It's these drugs man! I smoked some ice before we came here, it-"

A batarang sliced through the air, smashing all the light bulbs. In the darkness the men lost their bravado. Each of them had been in Gotham long enough to know what the Batman was capable of. He had hospitalized people before for doing less than this.

The floorboards creaked ominously and there was a blinding flash of light as every thug with a gun started shooting in the direction of the sounds.  
There was just enough light from the lamps outside for the men to see each other. There was a hiss and the room filled with acrid smoke.

A black mass appeared seemingly out of nowhere and pulled one man, weeping and begging for forgiveness, into the shadows. They could hear the quick flurry of punches, and the strangled cries of pain from the man as Batman savagely beat him. It went on for a long time,the pleas getting more desperate, the voice weakening. Every man in the room was frozen in fear. The smoke thinned gradually.

Then it was quiet.

Moments later a body came crashing out the window, landing on the pavement with a dull thud just outside the store, in full view of the other thugs. It was covered in blood,there were barely any teeth left in his mouth, and the face was so badly bruised you could hardly recognize it as human. Only the earring identified him. It was Johnny.

Holy shit. He looks like he was hit by a meat tenderizer, thought the gang leader, Kevin.  
"Lets get the hell out of here." he whispered hoarsely.

"The only place you're going tonight is a hospital." said a deep gravelly voice behind him.

Kevin reacted quickly and pointed his old revolver at Batman. Before he could shoot, Batman bent the barrel of the gun like it was taffy and headbutted him, breaking his nose painfully and causing blood to gush out of it.

"You'll pay for that you son of a bitch! Kevin pulled out a large hunting knife and lunged at Batman,going for the chest. Such an obvious target,Bruce thought.

He caught his arm at the wrist and twisted it round until the knife was pointing away from him, then he pushed the arm back slowly,further and further back...there was a sickening snap accompanied by a scream of pain. He had forced Kevin to stab himself, breaking his elbow brutally in the process. Without missing a beat, he picked Kevin up and tossed him over his shoulder, taking out the two thugs behind him before they even had a chance to draw their weapons.

The last man standing dropped his gun and raised his hands high. "I-I-I surrender.. Please don't hurt me.. Please.." Tears streamed down his face. Batman walked slowly and purposefully up to him. "Who said surrender was an option?". He knocked him out cold with one punch.

He looked around at the men on the floor. He knew he had been heavy handed. Thankfully he hadn't crossed the ultimate line. He hadn't killed them. Whatever happened to these men, they deserved it. Rapists and murderers. The worst kind of criminals.

 **OUTSIDE THE JEWELRY STORE..**

Gordon ran his hands over the body of the armored car. It was very thick, like a tank, but it was lightweight too. He noticed it had become deathly silent in the store. Should I check it out or sit tight?, he wondered.  
His musings were cut short by the body that crashed onto the roof of the car above him. Automatically he fired two shots at the figure,but it moved even faster, somehow managing to dodge the shots.

"Don't shoot."

"Get off the car, step forward into the light!" ordered Gordon.

Bruce thought about it for a second. From his position on the roof, there were seven different ways to disarm Gordon and three different ways to incapacitate him if necessary. But he needed allies. The fact that Gordon hadn't blown him away after yet was proof that he wasn't like most of the officers on the GCPD. He would have to gain his confidence. So he stepped off the roof-"Nice and slow, none of that parkour stuff now", said Gordon-and stepped forward under the streetlight.

At last, Gordon got a good look at the man he had been chasing for nearly a year. The last time had been.. hectic. He had only seen a glimpse of him from afar.  
He was a big man. Tall, at least 6 foot 2. His physique was quite muscular and solid, it spoke of long hours of grueling training.  
There was a menacing air about him that made him quite intimidating and put Gordon on high alert. If he had this effect on an old warrior like Gordon it was no wonder criminals were terrified of him.

He wore a cowl with pointed ears and a long black cape. His eyes were concealed by pale white lenses, giving him a ghostly appearance. The lower half of his face was visible,revealing a chiseled jaw. The mouth was set in a grim,determined line. At his waist he wore a utility belt of sorts with numerous pouches filled with who knew what inside. He wore body armor, Kevlar or something similar.

It was form fitting yet looked quite durable-similar to what Gordon wore in his days as a Beret-but this looked modified and much more advanced. Made for durability and efficiency in combat no doubt. He could see the inlays where the padding was thicker to protect joints and soft spots. His gloves were heavily padded with extra thick knuckles,and there were scallops on the sides of his gauntlets. It was more of a uniform than a costume. That coupled with the high-end armor plated vehicle led Gordon to believe he was dealing with a fellow soldier from one of the Special Forces branches.

For what seemed like a long time neither spoke or moved a muscle. Finally Gordon asked:"What's your endgame?"

Batman answered without a moments hesitation: "To end crime in Gotham."

"You know you'll never achieve that."

"Not alone."

"Meaning?"

Gordon got no reply.

"Why did you help me?" asked Batman.

"Because I want to bring you in, not take you out."

"No. If you wanted to bring me in you could have done it that night. I was losing blood. Weakened, vulnerable. The SWAT teams were closing in on me. You had the perfect opportunity to make an arrest. BUt you didn't. You hesitated. You helped me to escape. Why did you do that? Because you know I'm what this city needs."

Gordon was silent for a long time. He sighed and lowered the gun. "Where do we go from here?" he asked as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"We work together."

Gordon laughed tonelessly. "Are you serious? They're watching me y'know. They're already suspicious."

"That's because you are a clean cop with ambition. You couldn't hide that if you tried. You won't have to do anything except give me free rein to do my job."

"And why the hell would I do that? I don't think you're a bad guy, but I can't condone your methods-"

"How long have you been in Gotham, Detective?"

"A little over a year."

"And what is your honest opinion of it?"

Gordon took a deep drag from the cigarette."Honestly, its a shit pit, but it's not the ninth circle of hell. There are places far worse than this y'know."

"Yes. But imagine having lived in such a city all your life. Witnessing the corruption, the violence, the abuse. Seeing how powerless the innocent are because of it, how they suffer, how miserable their lives are. Knowing nothing but the despair, the sadness,the pain." Batman's voice had taken on a strange disembodied tone, like his mind was in another place.

Gordon exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. "I imagine its enough to drive one insane."he said quietly.

"Don't try to psychoanalyze me Gordon. You Ex-Military men don't exactly have a shining reputation in normal behavior."

"Not all soldiers are psychopaths."

"Not all costumed vigilantes are insane."

Gordon pondered this as he finished his cigarette and stubbed it on the ground. "Hypothetically, if I did want to help you, how would I contact you?"

Silence.

He looked up to find he was alone.

"You forgot your car!", he shouted. No sooner had he said it than the car revved up, tires screeching, and drove off at top speed.

"Lovely." he said sarcastically.  
He thought about the offer. Batman was certainly competent. Very competent. And highly intelligent. A man with such vast resources at his disposal, with such raw intellect and ability, operating outside the law, well that was more than Gordon could handle. But... there was another side to it as well.

The very fact that he operated outside of the law meant that the Batman could go places, do things that Gordon couldn't. His methods,while unsavory, were effective. Necessary even. It didn't sit right with Gordon, but after what he'd seen these past 12 months, he decided he'd rather have Batman as a friend and not an enemy.

He sighed wearily and went into the Jewellery store to clean up after the Batman.

In the distance, he could hear the sound of sirens.

3.15AM,Gotham,Wayne Manor

The ground rumbled as the car rolled smoothly into the cave. Bruce stepped out and walked straight over to the computer, frowning when he saw Alfred sitting beside it with a tray of medical supplies.

"I told you not to wait up for me Alfred." he growled.

"Hello to you too, Master Bruce. I see you are not limping or trailing blood on the floor,no bones bent or broken out of shape. A quiet night then? Or are you just getting better at hiding your injuries?" replied Alfred with a twinkle of amusement.

Bruce almost smiled. Secretly he enjoyed Alfred's witty banter,and he liked that he cared enough to stay up waiting for him.

"Not entirely uneventful. I reached out to Detective Gordon tonight. It remains to be seen what his response will be." His stomach rumbled.

"Shall I prepare a meal for you sir?"

He looked at the time. "No. You can turn in for the night."

"Very well sir. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He went into the elevator and ascended to the Manor.

Bruce took off his cowl and suit methodically. His gloves had tiny red splotches of blood on them. These were the nights he hated. He worked hard, very hard, to try and eradicate crime in Gotham. But as hard as he worked, he couldn't save everyone. Try as he might, he just couldn't.

Everybody dies, a voice said in his head.

That lady that died tonight. She didn't deserve to die that way. Raped and murdered. Her body violated by that vile man. What was his name? Johnny.. Bruce clenched and unclenched his fists. He had beaten him to within an inch of his life.

He came so close to crossing that line...

No, put it out of your mind, the voice said. The war goes on.

He sat down before the massive computer screen, cracked his fingers and got down to updating his case files.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I for one hate when writers take forever to update stories. My computer broke down and I've got exams in 2 months so I won't be updating as regularly as I'd like to.**

 **There's less action in this chapter than the last. I'm big on character development and weaving a story together, that's what is happening today.**

 **As always, read and review.**

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 **6.52PM Metropolis Sewerage Plant**

He walked down the dimly lit passage, knowing the way by heart. His polished shoes were covered in a fine layer of dust, as was his expensive suit. The rusty pipes on the ceiling dripped in some places, forming puddles of stagnant brown water on the ground. He paused to admire his reflection, straightening his tie unconcsiously. He hated this place. It was filthy, and it smelled terriblly. There was little he could do about it even with his vast resources and influence. This pig-sty was the perfect location for the project.

He smiled coldly. It was funny really. No one would think they were running a high scale covert operation in the depths of the Metropolis Sewer System. Sometimes the movies got it right.

Approaching the ancient looking elevator, he stood for a moment before the doors opened smoothly and silently. Inside the elevator it was plush and comfortable. There were shiny buttons, wood panelled walls. Soft music played in the background. He pushed the button without looking. Number 51. The elevator descended noiselessly, further into the depths of the abandoned sewerage plant.

The doors opened to a flurry of activity. Men and women in labcoats bustled around,some of the finest scientists in the country. Their heads were down,reading or writing something on their pads, the light from the screens reflecting off of their eyeglasses. Briefly he wondered if all scientists wore glasses or it was just an affectation. Soldiers stood like statues at various points,keeping an eye on everything. They wore no uniform and their weapons were concealed, but one could see from their erect posture, monochromatic attire and steely eyes that they were military men. The lighting was much better here. Large fluorescent bulbs were suspended on the ceiling high above them.

A smartly dressed soldier walked over to him. He was tall and solidly built, with a buzz cut of dirty blond hair.

"Afternoon sir. We've been expecting you. This way."

He nodded his assent, his face impassive. 'I don't know why they have to do this' he thought. 'I've been here long enough, I know my way around. The Military Brass flexing their muscles no doubt. Trying to show me who's boss. They should remember who it is thats funding this operation.'

The soldier walked stiffly,pausing when he noticed the man was no longer following him. He backtracked and found him at one of the display windows.

"Sir, if you'll just follow me..."

"In a moment."

The soldier stood at ease, watching through the display window with him.

"It's beautiful isn't it?"

"Sir?"

"What were doing here. Humanity at its finest. The science behind this... It's revolutionary. It'll change the world." He glanced sideways at the soldier.

"Yes sir. It'll change modern warfare as we know it."

"You don't sound too pleased about it soldier."

The man stiffened visibly. "I am pleased sir. It'll save lives, especially those of soldiers like myself. They won't need troops to fight in the frontlines once they're done working on this."

"Oh come now soldier. I can see clearly this displeases you. I know what you're thinking. When this is completed, there'll be no place for men like you. No place for warriors. That you'll be relegated to a desk job somewhere. A grunt in an office. Am I right?"

The soldier was silent, his jaw was set tight.

"What's your name soldier?"

"Sergeant John Corben, US Marine Corps."

"Ah yes, of course, a jar-head. You boys are quite the unit, aren't you? It's no wonder you're not too pleased about this. I imagine a man like you belongs on the battlefield,in the heat of combat, not stuck behind a desk."

The soldier started to protest, but he was cut off.

"Please, don't apologize Corben. You are a man of action. It's your nature. Don't deny your nature. Embrace it. It's your greatest gift. And don't despair. There is always a place for a man like yourself in the future."

Corben smiled slightly at this. Inwardly he was relieved. The last thing he wanted was to offend their biggest donor.

The man flashed his trademark smile in reply, before motioning for the soldier to lead on.

 **6.52PM Metropolis**

Clark had just returned from his evening round across the city, and he sat on his sofa surfing through the channels, still wearing his suit.

He stopped on channel 7, turning up the volume. A panel of 'experts' were discussing the effect of meta-humans on the world. They showed a grainy cell phone photograph of what appeared to be a giant black bat flying over a city skyline at night. You could see the outline of its leathery black wings against the white light of the moon. The image had apparently surfaced online last night and had gone viral ever since. The sender was anonymous, but the photo was said to have come from Gotham. The internet debates had gotten quite heated, with some saying it was a hoax and others saying this was the proof that the bat-creature terrorizing Gotham was real.

The Gotham Police Department, Mayor and city officials did not reply when they were reached for comment.

It sounded ridiculous to Clark. But who's to say its fake? I'm an alien from a dead planet. 5 years ago most people didn't even believe there was intelligent life outside Earth.

The image on-screen changed to that of a tall, strikingly beautiful woman dressed in a simple white gown, speaking at a conference on Spreading Peace in the Modern World. Princess Diana of Themyscira, or as the media was calling her since her decision to enter the 'heroics' business, Wonder Woman. He remembered Lois talking about her in the office earlier that day.

The panelists skipped the speech and cut right to a helicopter filmed footage of her flying over a speeding car. She picked up the car suddenly and ripped the roof clean off, dumping the passengers inside it, 4 armed robbers, onto the ground. The men opened fire on her and she deflected the bullets using the thick, shiny gauntlets she wore on her forearms. Then she produced a long golden rope seemingly out of nowhere and swiftly restrained the men before they had a chance to react.

What followed next was most interesting. The police squad cars pulled up, and instead of arresting the men, they drew their weapons and pointed them at Wonder Woman. The helicopter was too far away to pick up on the dialogue, but based on her body language, Wonder Woman clearly wasn't going to surrender. Instead she uncoiled the rope and walked slowly over to the police. You could see she was trying to talk to them, but the officers panicked and started shooting at her when she got too close. Again she deflected the bullets with her gauntlets, her arms a blur of shiny metal and sparks. The officers quickly ran out of bullets, at which point Wonder Woman threw the car at them an flew off at great speed. The officers barely had time to move out of the way before the car came crashing down on them.

The footage returned to the studio, where the panel of 'experts' debated the safety of having meta-humans living among 'normal people'. At the corner of the screen they placed the photo of Princess Diana speaking at the conference against that of her in her Wonder Woman costume, picking a photograph that showed her with a fierce expression on her face. Underneath was the caption 'Spreading Peace Through Violence?".

"And now we come to the worst of them, Superman." said the panelist on screen. Clark switched off the TV in disgust. He had seen more than enough of these kinds of reports about him, he wasn't in the mood for any more. He let out a long sigh. At least his civilian life was a little better, though not by much. Most importantly, he finally had a 'talk' with Lois.

It had been a slow day. There was not much field work to do so he stayed in the office with Jimmy and Lois,each putting the finishing touches on their work. Lois had been unusually quiet, which didn't go unnoticed by Clark or Jimmy. After a few hours working in eerie silence save for the sound of others in the office, Jimmy got up on the pretext of going to develop some photographs in the red room. It was a flimsy excuse at best, no one used red rooms anymore. Everything was digital now, computerized. Obviously the awkward silence became too much for him and he was smart enough to know it was something to do with Clark and Lois, so he decided to leave them alone and let them resolve it. He mouthed the words 'Good Luck' to Clark before he left. No sooner had he gone than Lois started talking.

"So Clark"-oh dear lord she used my name, I'm in for it now, he thought-"what have you been up to lately?"

"Ah.. Nothing much Lois. Just the usual."

"Really? The 'usual'? And what exactly is, the 'usual'?"

"Oh, y'know, writing stories, chasing leads.. That kind of stuff."

She narrowed her violet eyes at him. "Are you hiding something from me Clark?"

"Why would you think that?"

She laughed tonelessly, never a good sign.

"Well lets see. You're always distracted. You always disappear at the strangest times. Sometimes for hours. Always with the lamest excuses. Much worse than Jimmy with his red-room thing. At times you act so.. so distant,withdrawn, so closed up. It's like you build a wall around yourself, closing off your emotions or something. I never see you anywhere after work. Ever. You don't go out to any places, no nightclubs, no bars, no restaurants. You never come to the office parties. Aside from Jimmy and I you don't seem to have any friends. You don't seem to have a girlfriend either. Or boyfriend if thats what you're into. I mean its not like you're bad looking, god knows you try to be with those oversize clothes and dopey glasses."

"Wow Lois. You've been watching me a lot. I don't know if I should be scared or flattered."

"Uh huh. Answer the question mister."

"I'm not hiding anything from you Lois. I've always been a quiet person, sometimes that makes me seem a little distant. I'm a bit of an introvert on the social scene. I prefer staying home and reading a book or watching a movie. And you're talking to me about fashion sense? I'm a small town boy, remember? Blue jeans and a white shirt are all you need where I'm from. Besides, I live on a reporters salary, and unlike you I don't have a rich father to bail me out when I max out on my credit cards." He said this last part with a smile, to show he didn't mean any offense by it.

Lois watched him keenly. From experience he knew she was weighing his words and deciding whether she should believe him or not. He took a sip of water from his bottle,hoping what he said would be enough.

"I don't know Clark. It sounds too convenient. And you still haven't explained your mysterious disappearances. Are you leading a double life?"

He choked on his water and nearly spat it all out. That would have been disastrous. With his power he could have drilled a hole right through her skull. Lois leaned back in her chair, a triumphant smile on her face. "Ok, spill. Tell me everything."

"Ahem.. A double life.. How do you mean exactly?"

"Oh I don't know.. You got baby mama drama?"

"What?"

"Y'know, do you have a family on the downlow? Some poor country girl you knocked up and left behind? A secret life when you go wherever it is you're always running off to?"

"No! Do I really look like that type of guy?"

"Lose the glasses and wear clothes with a better fit, you just might."

If only you knew how right you are, he thought.

"No, nothing like that Lois."

"Then what? Because there's only one other possible explanation. Only one thing can explain your vanishing acts."

Crap. "And what's that?"

"Oh please Clark. Are you really going to make me come out and say it?"

"Please do."

His face was expressionless, but inside his mind was racing. She couldn't know, could she? SHe was a good reporter, maybe even a great one. She had an uncanny intuition and was very perceptive, not to mention tenacious. No, she couldn't know surely.. SHe couldn't.. Right?

"You're trying to steal a story from me."

Well, that was unexpected. But as he thought about it, no, no it wasn't that unexpected. Lois was very driven, very ambitious, some might say too much. She was determined to be the best reporter in the country.

"Don't give me that puppy dog face Smallville, I invented it. So what is it? Corruption in the local government? The war against drugs? Illegal immigrants holed up in the Suicide Slums?"

"I'm not covering any of that Lois."

If it was possible, her eyes narrowed even more.

"Superman." she said flatly.

This is getting a little too close to home, thought Clark.

"Don't play dumb. He's my biggest asset, and you know it. If you could get a one-on-one interview with him it would put you on the launchpad to bigger things. You should also know that it would pit you against me. And believe me when I say, you do NOT want to go up against Lois Lane."

"Uh.. riiight.. Look Lois, I'm not trying to steal a story from you, nor am I leading a double life. I'm just a simple man with simple tastes, that's all."

"I'm still not buying it."

"I'm not trying to sell you anything either." She didn't look convinced. He sighed wearily.

"All right, I can see you're not going to give up until you get something. If you must know.. It's.. It's about my father." The emotion in his voice was clear.

Lois' face softened. "I'm so sorry Clark. I-I didn't know. Do you mind me asking what the problem is?"

"No, not at all. My father.. He's been getting real sick lately. My mother told me he's been seeing the doctor regularly. He tries to hide it from her but.." he shrugged.

"Oh my.. I'm sorry to hear that. What's wrong with him? And why does he hide it?"

"He's got a congenital heart defect. Most of the men in the family have it. He's also got a problem with his blood pressure. He hides it because.. Well he's very old school. He doesn't believe in crying over his issues or burdening people with his problems. I know he's on medication, and I looked into it." He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "but the treatment isn't that viable. It will extend his lifespan by a few years at best. It's why I've been so... well its why I've been the way I've been lately. I worry about him, y'know? And I just feel so powerless to help him.."

Lois listened in silence. Her heart went out to Clark. She also knew what he was going through. Growing up without a mother, and having a father who was in the Army, she was always afraid of losing him. In truth she still was, although he was a high ranking General now and the chances of him dying in combat were almost non-existent.

"I'm so sorry Clark. I had no idea you were going through that. I feel terrible now, being so nosy. If there's anything I can do, anything at all.."

He smiled thinly. "It's alright Lois. And thank you, for what its worth. You've already helped me just by talking about it."

She smiled too. Never one to linger on a topic for too long, she quickly changed lanes.

"Onto less depressing subjects now.. Did you hear about that new superhero on the scene? The Boston Globe is calling her Wonder Woman. I wish I had thought it up. Such a fitting name for a demi-god that looks like a supermodel. I don't know HOW she managed to stay off the radar for so long. Apparently she's been doing diplomatic work for awhile now. You'd think the worlds governments would know something about it. Or maybe they were in on it the whole time..."

Clark then sat back in his office chair, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he listened to Lois ramble on. The disaster had been averted.

Now that he had finally done it, he did feel a little guilty about lying to Lois because she was truly sympathetic, but it had to be done. He stretched himself out across the couch so he could see the stars outside his apartment window.

If only what he had said about his father had been a lie.

 **][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]**

 **A/N: Someone asked me where I get my inspiration and ideas of how the characters behave. Most of it from comics and animated series and films, particularly the New 52 series, the rest(as vain as it sounds)is from what I imagine the characters are like in my head.**


	7. Chapter 7

**11.37 PM, Marabou Nightclub, Gotham City**

Gio's nightclub was open for business. The club was packed. The dancers were in their cages, the bar was flowing freely. The Johns were snorting through the coke and popping pills like there was no tomorrow. Further downstairs some men and not a few women were getting 'serviced' by the local girls. Gio looked down on them all from his position on the balcony upstairs.

Business was still good here at least.

Out on the streets, it was a different matter entirely. The Batman was coming down hard on every crime. You couldn't scratch your ass on the streets without the Bat knowing about it. People were starting to complain, one of them was his uncle Sal.

Gio loved his uncle Sal, he was the closest thing he had ever had to a father. When he was little he had been dirt poor and the runt of his family. Things only got worse after his mother died of a heroin overdose. But uncle Sal had taken him in, practically raised him. He had seen something in him, and when he graduated from college with a Masters degree in accounts and marketing, he had brought him out to Gotham and put him in charge of this business. Giovanni Maroni was the archetypal "kid out of the gutter", and it was all thanks to his uncle Sal.

So when his uncle Sal asked to use the club for a meeting tonight, how could Gio refuse him? He had a funny feeling about it, usually bad shit happened around his uncle, but he swallowed his fears and opened his doors for him. He only hoped there wouldn't be a mess. That would be bad for business. He took one last look around then went upstairs to the meeting room.

 **UPSTAIRS**

"This guy, this bat-character, he's making life really fucking difficult for us Salvatore. I can't even get my product out on the streets these days. My boys are shitting their pants, they won't do any business at night. Last night, a shipment of product came in, word of God says the Batman blew it up, after he hospitalized a whole squad of my best boys. We can't work like this Sal. The money just ain't coming in like it used to." The fat man stopped speaking, taking a sip from the glass of scotch before him.

Salvatore Maroni sat at the head of the table, thinking over his lieutenants words. He was dressed in an expensive suit. It was cut to fit his lean physique but it was flashy, the mark of a man who didn't grow up around money. His salt and pepper hair was cut stylishly, and his tanned face was shaved smooth. He was a handsome man and he knew it, taking great pains to look good at all times, though he was pushing 50.

Business had been tight lately. True, things had gotten a little tougher ever since the Batman came on the scene, but it had gotten even worse the past year. The GCPD was useless, hardly worth the money he paid them, they had failed to kill him. Many a time since the vigilante's emergence Sal Maroni had wondered who and what this Batman was. Word on the street said he wasn't a man. Some said he was a vampire, others said he was a demon or a ghost. Sal Maroni knew what the Batman was. A pain in the ass.

"These goddamn costumed freaks. Driving us honest working men out of work. It started with this Superman guy, that alien freak. Then this Batman showed up and motherfucked us. Now there's a broad that looks like she should be on the cover of Sports Illustrated flying around in a stripper outfit. When will this shit stop?" said Maroni.

The men and women around the table shifted uneasily,unsure what to say. Their faces obscured by the smoke of cigars. They were some of the most powerful people in Gotham. Mobsters, arms dealers,drug and human traffickers, top level gang members,enforcers, dirty cops and politicians,corrupt bureaucrats.. Everyone who was big and bad was in this room. Even Carmine Falcone, the rival of Sal Maroni was here, sitting at the head of the table on the other end. He was older than Maroni by well over a decade, with white hair and a wrinkled face. He also wore an expensive suit. He was puffing quietly on a cigar as Maroni spoke his words, and it was at that moment that he spoke up.

"Maroni, normally I would want to pull your tongue out through your ass, but this time you speak the truth. I think I speak for everyone when I say that these freaks have fucked up our operations." He paused to puff thoughtfully on his cigar. "It's simple really. Since the goddamn GCPD can't kill this cockroach"-he looked at the Police Commissioner, whos squirmed in his seat-"I figure we should fight fire with fire. Set a thief to catch a thief. Use one of these costumed freaks to take out the Batman, permanently."

The mood in the room changed almost immediately, with the people murmuring amongst themselves.

A young dark skinned man wearing a blood red bandanna, going by the name of Rico, spoke up. "And where the fuck are we s'posed to get one from pops?"

"Watch your mouth you fucking jungle bunny." said a big burly bodyguard behind him.

"What did you say bitch?" his gun was cocked and pointed in the bodyguards face in an instant. "You got something to say to my .45? What's the matter white bread, you deaf?"

There was a series of clicks as every hood in the room pulled a gun and pointed it at the gang member, and another series of clicks as several gang members pulled out their weapons.

"Put your guns down. All this macho posturing will get you killed. And I won't get paid if you're all dead." The voice came from the shadows,sounding deep and somewhat distorted, then the figure stepped forward.

He was huge, at least 6'4 with a very muscular body. He wore a helmet that was black and featureless on one side but bronze colored and with a red lens on the other side. At his broad back there was strapped an incredibly huge broadsword and a small bo staff. There were massive bronze colored pads on his shoulders, the one on his left was strapped with shotgun shells. He wore a suit of black body armor, crisscrossed with holsters that housed explosives. Around his neck the unmistakable dog tags worn by soldiers hung. At his left hip a gun was holstered, at his right there was a long knife and a baton. Around his waist was a thick belt with many compartments. He wore gloves the same color as his shoulder pads, they had short sharp scallops on their sides, and the knuckles had extra thick padding.

The air in the room seemed to freeze, everyone scared to do so much as take a breath. The man approached one gang member wearing a blue bandanna. "Never thought I'd see that. I thought you reds and blues didn't get along. We really are living in strange times." You couldn't see his face, but his voice gave the impression he was amused.

"Put your guns down. I won't say that again." There was a menacing edge to his voice. This time everyone obeyed. They were all hardened men, killers, but they recognized an alpha male when they saw one.  
"Now, because you boys can't go about your business without shooting each other, I'll take over from here. For those of you who don't know me, I am Deathstroke The Terminator-"

"Hahaha! Like the Schwarzenegger"-a knife flew through the air and sliced clean through the skull of the man and into the wall behind him before he finished his sentence. He dropped to the ground, blood gushing from his forehead. Several faces in the room went pale. Deathstroke continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.

-"Mercenary, assassin and bounty hunter. The best there is or will ever be. Mr Falcone contacted me, informed me that you have a.. Bat problem. For the right price, I can take care of him."

Sal Maroni tore his eyes away from the twitching, bleeding corpse of his nephew Giovanni and found the courage to speak up. "When you say 'take care of him', what do you mean exactly?"

"I can kill him, I can capture him.. Hell, I can skin him alive and spit roast him if thats what you want."

"And how much would that cost?"

"That depends on the quarry. A high profile target like yours would cost at least 5."

"Half a million dollars?" a woman's voice asked meekly.

Deathstroke stood in silence for a full minute,enjoying the sense of discomfort the moment gave everyone in the room. "No, 5 million. Dollars. Cash. From both Crime families. An additional 1 million from everyone who is in charge of their organisation in this room. That means you too, Mr Maroni."

"Thats a lot of dough. You talk a big game Mr Terminator. How come I've never heard of you?"

"I've never heard of you either. In any case,the mark of a good assassin is that the general public do not know he or she even exists. In the underworld circles I am very well known. Clearly your influence in the underworld is very weak indeed if you don't know who I am."

"Who the fuck is this guy? I'm Salvatore fucking Maroni! This is my city! You walk into my city, my fucking nightclub, and you disrespect me like this? You kill my nephew for cracking a joke, you talk all this shit and do some alpha male bullshit and you think what? That we'll just roll over for you? This is Gotham freak! This ain't like whatever shithole you crawled out of."

His mouth was full of blood before he could say another word. Deathstroke moved with impossible speed, punching Maroni square in the face before tossing him across the room. He was unconscious before he hit the floor. His bodyguards didn't even have time to draw their weapons, and now after his display of power they were too scared to do so. The room was completely silent.

"Mr Falcone will inform you of the payment methods. You will pay me after the job is done. Mr Falcone, you know how to reach me." With those words, he retreated back into the shadows. Moments later the occupants of the room felt rather than saw his presence eaving the room.

Carmine Falcone sat in his chair, suddenly regretting his decision. Maybe this time they had bitten off more than they could chew. The world just wasn't the same. Superpowered freaks and vigilantes everywhere. He moved the cigar to his lips and realized he had stopped smoking it when a thick roll of ash the size of his index finger fell off the tip.

Still,this assassin was their best bet against the Batman. He just hoped it would be worth it.


	8. Chapter 8

Two large men sat on thrones surveying the earth below them. One was older, evidenced by his silver hair and beard. The younger had dark red hair and a clean shaven face. They were both hugely muscular, the older just a little taller in his throne. He held a long golden sceptre in his right hand. The younger man to his left sat with his hands clenching the arms of his throne. Every now and then he would sigh or muter something to himself.

"Something on your mind son?"

"Er.. no.."

The elder man gave a look that said 'I'm not buying it'

"Come now boy. You have been grinding your teeth to nubs, mumbling to yourself and crushing the armrests of that throne for years now. If you do not let it out it will drive you insane. Tell me what is it that vexes you so?"

"These humans. They have no idea what they are doing, much less what is coming. The Kryptonian, he is powerful, but he is also weak. He is afraid to embrace his power. The dark one, he is useless. A sack of meat and bone, easily killed, hardly worth talking about. The Amazon, she sits on her rear for years, then when she finally emerges, belittles herself by pandering to their whims. If I-"

"No."

"But I have said nothing Father.."

"No. You will not go to earth. We cannot interfere. You know the rules"

"But I-"

"Silence. Know your place son." There was an awkward silence. The elder man sighed.

"Forgive my harsh tone. Yes, the humans may not know what they are doing, but they are a very young race, infants compared to ancient beings such as ourselves. As for what is coming, how can you be sure?"

"We can see them. They are unaware of it but it happens all the same. And you can be sure that if we have noticed them, others have too. You know that not all Gods are good. There are those that would stop at nothing to-"

"Do not worry over things you have no control over child. Anything that can happen will happen. We will remain as observers, for now. If the time comes that we shall be forced to interfere, then we shall do so, though I hope that day never comes. Until then..." the elder man's voice trailed off.

"Very well. I will do as you say Father."

 **7.30 AM, Metropolis**

Lex Luthor was happy.

He woke up feeling refreshed, the sun rays creeping through the blinds on the window of his expensive apartment. Skipping breakfast, he went straight to his home gym and proceeded to put in a killer workout, even managing to set a new personal best on his bench pressing. Even his personal trainer was impressed. He noticed her several times gazing at his fine physique whenever she thought he wasn't looking. He walked out of the gym gleaming with sweat and with a massive ego boost.

The sauna cleared his sinuses and the massage was heaven for his sore muscles. Rodrigo, his personal chef, whipped up a delicious breakfast of eggs with goats cheese, ffrench toast, warm scones and generous helpings of bacon(to hell with the WHO cancer warning,he had told Rodrigo)and of course, a large cup of coffee-masters blend naturally.

Presently he was sitting in his home office, sipping a glass of mineral water and going through his daily schedule. A routine day really. Meetings at Lexcorp, cutting the ribbon at the new factory he had opened in downtown Metropolis, crunching numbers with his accountants, another meeting in the afternoon at the PR firm. The only exception was the Gala being held in Gotham.

Princess Diana of Themyscira, or Wonder Woman as she was being called now, was hosting a party in Gotham. Why it was in Gotham nobody knew, strange tales came out of that city, and the crime rates were through the roof, whatever the statisticians may say about them dropping in recent years. Oddly enough some of the richest families in the country came from Gotham. Lex suspected a certain playboy billionaire philanthropist had used his financial muscle to get the event held there.

He probably wanted to sleep with the Princess, another notch on his bedpost, if the party Lex attended at Wayne Manor was anything to go by. It was supposed to be an event where the Amazon Embassy pledged their support to various charities. Really it was just a chance for the who-is-who in the country to meet and engage in a pissing contest to see who was more important. A bunch of rich people getting together to have their asses kissed.

Truthfully Lex hated these events. As a self-made man, he never quite got the respect old-money families like the Waynes received. It made no sense to him. Surely making fat stacks of cash using your own intellect and ingenuity was something to be admired? Still, he made it a point to attend them. He wouldn't let these lazy frat boys faze him. They were where they were today becuase everything had been handed to them on a silver platter, they never had to work for it. Never had to earn it. Not like he did. He had come from nothing and made himself a powerful man. He stepped on a lot of backs to get here, and he wasn't about to stop just because a couple of spoiled, country club, private school boys didn't like him.

The large screen TV across the room caught his attention, a flash of color at the corner of his eye. He turned up the volume.

Superman. The feeling he had woken up with that morning turned to ashes in his mouth as he watched the report. They were polling people around Metropolis, asking them what they thought of the 'hero'. Lex was disturbed that most people, particularly the younger generation, clearly adored him, idolized him even.

"Stupid kids." he said to himself.

He was a little more relieved that the older members of the public weren't so warm towards him, at the very least most of them were suspicious of the alien. Still it wasn't enough to take the bad taste out of his mouth. His hands shook with rage.

Can't they see? Can't they see what he is? What it is? What they all are? These costumed freaks posing as heroes? Idiots, all of them! An alien with the ability to fly faster than the most advanced jets, to level mountains with his bare hands, and they say "Oh Superman? He's awesome!"or"He is so hot!"

"Idiots!" he screamed, flinging the tumbler of water at the television, cracking the screen.

His personal assistant Trish ran into the room, a look of concern on her pretty face. "Is everything alright Mr Luthor?" she asked with her breathy voice(honestly, it was the main reason Lex had hired her, hearing that voice on his phone gave him chills).

He smiled warmly, pushing back his rage with disturbing ease. "Everything is fine Trish. Just had a little incident with the television. Cancel all my meetings today, hold off the opening of the factory until tomorrow.I won't be coming in to the office. I have.. other engagements."

"Are you sure sir? The board won't be happy.. What should I tell them?"

Lex was about to explode, but he kept his cool. "Just say no."

"Just say no?" she asked incredulously. Not much in the way of brains, he thought coldly.

"Just. Say. No." Luthor replied through gritted teeth.

"Whatever you say Mr Luthor. Will that be all?"

"Tell Samuels to get the town car ready, I'll be going out today. Some projects that need my urgent attention."

"Right away sir." she sashayed out of the room, swaying her hips a little more than necessary because she knew how much Lex liked it.

 **Daily Planet**

"All right people, you know why you're here. We got a big event tonight. Wonder Woman is hosting a gala tonight at the Blue Marlin Hotel. I expect you three to give it your best. Lane, you ask the questions, Olsen, pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. I want photos of everybody who is anybody. Wonder Woman, wealthy businessmen, top military brass and politicians, spoiled heiresses, movie stars, musicians, whatever you can get. Clark.. You do... Whatever the hell it is you usually do. "

"Uh, chief, how are we supposed to get to Gotham?" Jimmy asked nervously.

Perry White ran a large hand through his silver colored hair and adjusted his suspenders. Even in this day and age he still wore them. He was the perfect picture of the old-school journalist. Rolled up sleeves, crisply ironed shirt and pants, gleaming shoes, the faintest hint of aftershave.

"Right, I had almost forgotten about that. Because Bruce Wayne owns the Blue Marlin Hotel"- (and everything else in Gotham, Lois muttered)- he has graciously arranged for all journalists outside of Gotham to be transported in and out of the city. You will be picked up in the evening at the offices and you will be back here by tomorrow morning."

"Bruce Wayne? Really? Will we get like, a private jet or something? Champagne and all?" Jimmy asked with excitement in his voice.

"Highly unlikely. You're reporters, you'll probably get a van. You'll be lucky if it has seats in the back let alone cheese and crackers."

Jimmy's face fell.

"What about our security?" Lois piped up.

"What about it?"

"Well, Gotham doesn't exactly have a shining reputation in the crime sector. Or does it? Drug dealers, mobsters, kidnappers, purse snatchers.. I could go on and on and on..."

"Oh right.. I'm sure that will be covered. There's going to be a lot of people there, rich important people. The security is sure to be up to scratch and then some. And if anything shady goes down, well you've got Wonder Woman to save you."

Lois snorted. It was no secret that she didn't like Wonder Woman. She had no problem with Princess Diana, but she didn't like her superhero persona. Something to do with setting feminism back a few decades with her revealing outfit.

"Clark, any questions?"

Clark had been standing quietly at the corner of the room by the water cooler, as was his habit.

"Uh, no sir, I don't think so. I've understood everything."

"All right. I'll trust you three to know what you're doing. Don't let me down. Now get out and get back to work."

The dismissal was as clear as any, and the trio filed out of the office to go their separate ways and prepare for the day. Each more than a little excited that they would get to go to such a high-brow event and mingle with powerful people. Clark was easily the most excited. He would finally get to meet (or at least see) Wonder Woman in the flesh. He was curious about her, and he wanted to know what she was like.

Gotham, Wayne Manor

The sound of metal clanging reverberated throughout the massive cave as Bruce went through his punishing weight training. He paused for a moment to take a few short breaths before gripping the massive barbell and performing the last set of 30 repetitions of deadlifts with 310 pounds. It was much lighter than his usual routine and he was barely feeling any strain.

He would probably be missing patrol tonight, but he would still get a good workout in.

Reracking the weights he debated whether he should go for aa quick run or a swim. He didn't want to be too tired tonight. You never knew what might happen, especially in Gotham, and he liked to be prepared. His highly trained body wouldn't be of much use if it was too exhausted from training to begin with.

A swim it is. And a sparring session. Maybe I'll squeeze in a run and some calisthenics, he thought as he towelled off.

Footsteps could be heard on the stone floor, the echoes reaching his ears long before he saw who it was. Only one woman on earth had a clearance to the Cave. Still he didn't dare believe it was her.

"Have I come at a bad time?" asked a soft, feminine voice.

Bruce turned around slowly, the better to mentally prepare himself. He started at the feet, which were housed in a pair of battered black Chuck Taylors. Travelling up to the legs, faded grey jeans that looked quite old. To the torso, a black My Chemical Romance t-shirt, also slightly faded. Finally to the face, framed with long hair. She was as beautiful as ever, perhaps moreso.

Her smooth olive colored skin contrasted oddly against her jet black hair, but not in an unappealing way. She wasn't wearing any make-up, which is how Bruce preferred her to look anyway, her full lips and curved cheekbones were ample enough. Her brown eyes squinted slightly as she adjusted to the sudden brightness in the gym area, stepping under the light.

Bruce cleared his throat. Something he never did.

"Ah..no. I was just finishing up here." There was a moment of silence as they appraised each other.

"You're bigger than I remember. Much bigger. Taller too." she said.

"Yes. It has been a while since we last saw each other. You've grown into a fine young woman Zatanna."

"Yeah, I have, haven't I?" she said with a hint of pride, spinning slowly so he could see all of her. He had to admit, she was filling out her clothes quite well. A big difference from the skinny teenager he had known.

"How have you been Zatanna?"

"Great actually. No business like show business. I love the gigs, its a lot of fun, y'know? No, no you don't." She laughed good-naturedly. "And the money is good. Like, really good. That is something you'd be more familiar with. How about you Bruce? How goes life? How goes the 'other' life?"

"I can't complain. The company is doing well, we've tripled our production in all areas. For once the board is happy with me." She nodded, noticing he didn't answer the other question. Haven't changed that much, she thought.

"Anyway, you must be wondering what I'm doing here. Alfred asked me over. Said you needed a date tonight for some charity thing you're having tonight. My tour doesn't start off for awhile yet so I thought why not?"

"Did he?" Bruce asked with a flicker of a smile. Alfred was playing matchmaker again. Bruce could have easily gotten a woman to go out with him for the Gala tonight.

"Yeah. I should warn you though, I don't have any fancy dresses or anything. I mean, I can pick something out from a store if you want. Unless you have some fancy dresses lying around somewhere. Honestly I wouldn't be surprised."

"It's no problem at all. We'll figure something out. Just let me take a shower and I'll be right up."

"Ok. Don't take too long though. Alfred is making those cookies you like." She walked across the floor and went up the stairs. Bruce waited until he heard the sound of the heavy metal door closing, then he went to the showers.

"Cookies. Huh. A bribe if ever I saw one." he mumbled as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

At least tonight wouldn't be completely boring, he thought as the cold water hit his chest.

 **A/N: Someone asked if there will be any ships. Yes, but none that are set in stone. As always, read and review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello all. Hope everyone is having a great Christmas. I'm not. I have no trees. Only the stoners will understand that one.  
Everyone saw the BvS preview obviously. I really can't wait to watch the movie though. I liked it so much it influences the next chapter. Civil War trailer was a little disappointing, I'll watch it anyway. Curious to see how Black Panther is portrayed. I hope they fix the mispronunciation of his name. Apostrophes are ignored in African languages. T'Challa should be pronounced as Challa, not Tuh-Challa.  
Enough rambling, here's the story.**

 **\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\**

 **Blue Marlin Hotel**

Outside the hotel it was freezing, and the valet had to stomp their feet and rub their hands to keep warm. One of them lit up a cigarette, exhaling a long plume of smoke into the chilly night air. Their ears instinctively pricked up when they heard the bellow of a car engine. Scrambling to their positions, they were just in time to see Bruce Wayne whip his car round the corner and zoom up to them. The car rumbled angrily,like a caged beast. The ground underfoot vibrating from the sheer force of its engine. It was low, black,sharp curves and broad angles. Beautiful in that bizarrely striking way super cars are. The power underneath the hood was unmistakable.

Bruce stepped out smartly, tossing the keys to one of the men without even looking at him. "If this car has so much as a scratch on the fender, I will see to it, personally, that you never get a job in this city. Ever." He said to no one in particular. The valet holding the keys turned pale.

Walking round to the other side, Bruce held out his hand and helped Zatanna up out of her seat. She was dressed in a long aquamarine blue gown that extended down to her toes, with a slit on her right side revealing a smooth brown thigh. On her feet she wore a pair of white Nike sneakers with blue victory ticks the same color as the dress. She wore no jewellery,only a pair of round blue glasses,also the same color as the dress. It was a simple yet elegant look, unique but still adhering to the dress code. She didn't know it then, but Zatanna was about to be in many fashion magazines for many years to come.

He wore a charcoal grey suit from Brooks Brothers, with a black tie and a crisp white shirt. You can never go wrong with the basics. It was also a fairly simple look, but it had enough good taste and fine tailoring to make up for it. The camera flashes were blinding Zatanna, even though she was accustomed to being photographed(she was a well known magician/illusionist, and so was a mild celebrity) the sheer number of paparazzi snapping photographs still overwhelmed her. Bruce was used to it, being Gotham's prince he was always being watched. He placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through to the entrance, never faltering in his step despite the bright lights flashing all around them.

"Sorry about that. Should have used the back entrance."

"No, it's fine really. So, what do we do now?"

"Usually I get really drunk and cause a scene, then leave the party early with a couple of girls. But, this is actually an important party, and I am not drinking. Not after what happened last time.."

"Oh god.. Don't remind me.. Let's just.. never talk about that. Ever. Ok?"

"We'll mingle. Walk around, introduce ourselves, gossip. Until the Princess gets here."

"Oooh, Wonder Woman? I'm excited to meet her."

Bruce grunted. "What? Oh don't tell me you're not excited to meet her. She's a super powered princess that looks like a swimsuit model. You've got to at least be 'excited' on a.. y'know.. primal level.." She winked seductively at him.

"No."

"I call bullshit batboy. You mean to tell me you don't think she's beautiful?"

"Is she beautiful? Yes, that's a fact. My opinion doesn't matter there. Anyway, I'm more interested in her future ambitions. Amazons are notoriously intolerant of men, and Greek Gods are known for their abuse of humans just to get their way. She is both. I want to know what she thinks of mankind, what her plans are for the future, and what her true purpose here is."

"Wow Bruce. And here I thought we were here to have a good time. Don't you ever switch off?"

"Honestly, I wouldn't know how to. Here's one of my 'associates'. Come on and I'll introduce you to him."Bruce waved at a man standing a few feet away at the bar, sipping on a glass of scotch. He was wearing a black suit that looked like Armani to Zatanna's practiced eye.

"Is that Lex Luthor? You know Lex Luthor?" she whispered sharply.

"Of course I do. Were more or less in the same line of work. Everybody knows everybody in these circles."

Lex walked over to them, smiling broadly. "Bruce! How are you you old devil!"(old-money bastard, he thought to himself) "I haven't seen you since the party at Wayne Manor."(where you made a fool of yourself like you always do. Stupid spoiled man-baby)"And who is this lovely lady?"(How does he get these women? Escort service?)

"Doing great Lex! Can't complain!"(He must think I'm the dumbest man on earth) "This pretty little flower is my date tonight. Ms. Zatanna Zatarra." (Eat your heart out you bald bastard)

"Ah, surely she can't be the magician? She is!?(Damn you Wayne) You just finished your tour right? Oh, you simply must come to Metropolis one of these days. I-The people of Metropolis would love to have you there."

Zatanna was by no means blind to the tension that was palpable in the air between the two men. On the surface they were interacting pleasantly, in fact they were each hiding it admirably, but she could pick up a certain 'vibe' coming off of them.

"Um, sure. I'll definitely do that."  
"Well, I've got to go over and say hello to Queen. We've got some business to discuss. Government contracts, you know how it is. Nice meeting you Bruce, you too Zatanna. Maybe we'll see each other again. Bruce, you'll have to tell me sometime how you managed to swing this gig." (If I never see you again it'll be too soon, Wayne)

"Oh, I understand perfectly. We'll meet up at some point, count on it." (Seriously. Count on it)

Lex departed to talk to a man across the room, who had short blond hair.

Zatanna's eyes widened. "Is that THE Oliver Queen? The guy who was stuck on an island for like 10 years?"

"Yes, and it wasn't ten years. Closer to 7."

"So... What was all that about?" asked Zatanna.

"That? Nothing. Just the usual business type of stuff."

"Uh-huh. You guys clearly don't like each other."

"Is it really that obvious?"

"Well, no. But aside from Alfred, I know you better than everyone you interact with, so I can tell when you don't like someone."

The relatively calm air of the room suddenly became energized. From their position Bruce and Zatanna could hear the din of voices increasing steadily, the excitement palpable in the air. Bruce craned his head to get a better view of the proceedings, but he already knew what was going on.

Princess Diana of Themyscira had arrived. She was every bit as beautiful as the papers,tabloids and reporters said she was. She looked exactly as good as she did on television.

Her long inky black hair was completely open. It was so long the tips brushed against her lower back. She wore a form fitting white dress that stopped just above her knees, and a pair of white sandals. Her crown rested atop her head, the red star adding a touch of color to the whole outfit. She had forsaken her usual bracers for a pair of slimmer, more elegant looking bracelets. Her whole look radiated an air of angelic, pristine beauty. Every man (and more than a few women) looked at her with awe. Even Bruce was taken in, something Zatanna noticed.

"Why does she always wear white?" she asked Bruce.

"The colour of purity. White is never boring." he replied without taking his eyes off of Diana.

Zatanna rolled her eyes. 'Men', she thought. 'Show a little skin and they can't think straight.' "So, aren't you going to introduce yourself? Or me, at the very least?"

"Uh, yes. Yes. Certainly. Right this way." Bruce said as though he had just returned to his senses.

As was expected, there was a small army surrounding Diana. Between the press, her bodyguards and the (very many) admirers clamouring for a chance to speak to her, one would think she would have lost her bearings. But, true to her royal station, she kept a cool head and managed to instil some sense of order among the masses.

"Please, if you would stop pushing at the back, I can attend to those at the front, and everyone will have their chance to speak." Her voice rang out clearly across the packed room. Her strange accent made the words sound almost musical. An old lady standing before Bruce turned to him and said, "Charming accent, isn't it Bruce?" Bruce smiled back politely,"Yes it is Mrs. Bolton."

Zatanna meanwhile was shifting impatiently from foot to foot. "Well? You're Bruce Wayne, you own this hotel and most of this city, can't you, y'know, do something?"

"There is a line Zatanna." Bruce replied, somewhat amused.

"You're not wearing a cape right now. Use that name for something other than throwing parties." she whispered shrilly in his ear.

OUTSIDE "Finally. I was starting to think you'd never show up."

There was a series of clicks as he performed a quick inventory of his weapons. Knives, swords, bo-staff, grenades,smoke pellets. Next he went through his small arms. Two pistols, a back up gun,and the most important weapon, encased in a small black fanny pack tied around his waist. It looked quite comical against his armor and weapons.

Checking all the openings he found it was just as he had predicted. Every living soul in or around the building was distracted by the entrance of the Princess. Everyone, from the valet to kitchen staff to the security personnel were trying to get a look at her. If there was ever a better time to pull a job, he figured he must have been on sick leave.

He launched himself effortlessly from the edge of the roof. For a few terrifying seconds he thought he was going to fall short of the mark, but he managed to grasp the light pole at the very last minute, swinging round it and using his inhuman strength to throw his whole body through the massive glass window. No need for stealth. He wanted all of them to know what he was doing.

INSIDE Time seemed to slow down for 4 people in the room as Deathstroke crashed through the heavy bulletproof glass, strong enough to hold against RPG's but not designed for meta humans with enhanced physicals wearing promethium armor.  
Rolling with the impact, he was up on his feet before anyone in the room had realized what was happening. Almost everyone.

The first to notice something amiss was Clark, who was standing with other reporters in the crowd surrounding Diana. Through the flash of camera bulbs,the chorus of introductions and questions from each newspaper journalist,he heard the scratch of boots that was Deathstroke jumping off the roof and the squeak of metal that was his hand gripping the light pole. Clark was muscling his way through the crowd before the intruder had broken through the window.

The second was Diana. Her senses weren't as fine as Clark's, her strong intuition forced her to look outside, where she immediately saw Deathstroke jump off the roof and swing on the light pole.

The third was Bruce Wayne. Though he had no superpowers, he had a very keen pair of eyes, and the glint of streetlight bouncing off of a suit of armor seemingly suspended in the air had been all the warning he needed.

Coming in hot at number 4, barely a millisecond after Bruce Wayne, was fellow billionaire playboy Oliver Queen. Like Bruce he lacked meta human abilities, but he too had very keen eyes, and he noticed the glint of light against the armor.

Diana, ever the warrior, attacked him immediately.

He had to admit he hadn't expected her to be quite so fast. He barely moved out of the way in time. The next blow was even faster. It caught him square across the face, knocking him down.  
He barely touched the ground before springing up off of it with unusual agility. Reaching behind his back, he unhooked the bo-staff,extended it to its full length and pointed it at Diana.  
The staff fired a powerful beam of energy right at her face. Automatically she raised her arms to deflect it, realizing too late that she had left her battle bracers at home. As the beam got closer, she hoped these would be strong enough to deflect the blast.

She never got to find out though, because a big blue and red blur intercepted the blast. The energy beams bounced harmlessly off its surface, and the blur flew at Deathstroke, knocking him out of the broken window. When it stopped moving, she realized it was... Superman?

.. **OUTSIDE**

He landed on top of a car with a sickening crunch, crushing its roof with the force of the fall. 'What the fuck?' he said to himself, hissing in pain as his foot touched the ground. He had underestimated Wonder Woman, but he flat out hadn't anticipated Superman being there at all.

He took off his helmet and spat a glob of blood onto the pavement. 'Ok. I'm ok. I'll just have to improvise.' Slade knew the chances were slim that he would win today, but he also knew he probably wouldn't get a golden opportunity to lure out the Batman like this again. He would just have to make do with what he had.

He waited until he heard her voice coming from inside the hotel, then he limped into the alley.

. **..INSIDE**

"Is everyone all right?" She asked as she floated into the room, hair billowing gently behind her. She pointedly ignored Superman.

Bruce, with the help of the security team, was already directing people out of the room and into the basement, which was a kind of giant safe room. Built to withstand powerful explosives, with enough supplies to take care of everyone at the party and then some for a few weeks. Extreme? Perhaps. But this is Gotham, and this is Bruce Wayne's hotel were talking about. He would spare no expense if it saved lives. When he saw Diana he walked over to her.

"Yes Princess,everything is fine. We're just evacuating these people to a safer location until we're sure the uh.. threat has been contained. I'm Bruce Wayne by the way. I.."

"I know who you are Mr Wayne. Owner of this establishment, the most influential man in Gotham, and one of the wealthiest men in the country." She looked around at the room. It was a brief spat, but there was shattered glass strewn across the floor and numerous burns on the walls and carpet.

"I am sorry for the mess. Its just.." she half-shrugged, half-smiled shyly.."I'm still new to this. Please, send the bills for repairs to the Themysciran Embassy."

Bruce found himself smiling against his will. "It's no problem at all. Gotham is like that sometimes. No need to bill you for this, I'll take care of it." He glanced over her shoulder, his face seemed to change for just a second, then he asked, "is he with you?"

Diana turned to see Superman, his red cape billowing in the wind the only thing that was visible of him. "No. Excuse me a moment."

She floated over to him outside the broken window. He was looking down at a hunk of twisted metal. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"He's gone."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He's gone. He was here just a second ago, but he's gone now."

"I see.. Listen, about what happened in there-"

"Oh that? Don't mention it, it was no problem at all."

Diana smiled sadly, shaking her head.

"Men,the one thing you have in common is your arrogance.. I was not trying to thank you, I was going to tell you that I am not some helpless waif who needs assistance."

"Whoa, hey, it's not like that-"

'Like teenagers', Slade thought to himself. He climbed swiftly up the side of the hotel building, easily kicking down the steel door on the roof. He raced down the stairs, pulling out his pistols as he did so. He kicked down another steel door, running right into the crowd of people that had been trying to escape him. They weren't too many, perhaps 50 or so.

For a few seconds they were still.  
That was all he needed.

His incredible brain worked feverishly in tandem with his eye, rushing from face to face searching for an ideal target. The faces in the crowd looked at him and he looked back at them. He could see the fear in their eyes, could practically see it coming off of them like steam from a hot cup of coffee. All I need is one, he reminded himself. Just one of these rich people as a hostage and the Bat will surely come calling. His eye fell on one. Bruce Wayne, crown prince of Gotham. Slade smiled underneath his helmet. If that doesn't bring out the Batman, I don't know what will.

He pointed his pistol at Bruce. "You, playboy, with me." There was a young woman beside him, exotic looking. Her face was panicked and he could see she was holding tightly onto his arm. He cocked the gun, to show he meant business. Bruce disengaged Zatanna from his arm and stepped forward boldly, much to the shock of everyone in the crowd.

As the billionaire approached him, Slade followed an ancient male ritual of sizing him up. He was a big guy. Quite tall and clearly he was into lifting weights. Wayne was almost as big as he was, but he dismissed this. He knew Bruce Wayne's reputation. It was nothing but vanity, a beach body built with supplements and steroids, all mirror muscles, for Instagram selfies only. There was no real fire behind them. Still he felt the need to warn him, if only to mark his territory.

"Any heroics and I will kill you without a moments- AAH! JESUS F CHRIST!."

Slade dropped his pistol, which was glowing red and was swiftly burning a hole in the carpet. He raised the other pistol and to his surprise Bruce Wayne was right in his face and trying to stop him. The playboy had a set of balls after all. Or maybe he was just stupid.

Bruce was struggling against Deathstroke. He considered himself to be pretty damn strong, but whoever this intruder was, he was a lot stronger. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the man from raising his arm. Bruce wrenched him into the wall in an attempt to stop him from shooting at the civilians. He barely moved him aside in time. The shots sprayed into the ceiling, the walls and everywhere else, but mercifully no one in the crowd was injured.

Enraged, Deathstroke tossed Bruce aside as though he was a rag doll and pointed his gun at the prone figure. The billionaire looked at the gun and then into Slade's face with no trace of fear.

Bruce stared down the gun barrel, feeling a cold emptiness in his stomach. What a way to go, he thought. 5 years on the job,every night, rain or moonshine. Survived gunshots, multiple stab wounds, electrocution, broken bones,mob hits, hell even the Police had tried to kill him. And this was how he was going to go out. Killed by a well armed thug in his own hotel. There was no grief, no sadness, just... What a waste.

Fuck that. I'm not ready to lay down just yet, said a voice in his head.

Deathstroke pulled the trigger just as Bruce rolled over to the side. The bullet splintered the floorboards beneath him, sending sharp bits of wood into Bruce's face. He felt nothing, the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Deathstroke fired again,this one glanced past Bruce's shoulder, and he felt a brief hot sting before the pain vanished in the haze of adrenaline.

"Hold still god dammit!" At that moment, the fire extinguisher on the wall seemed to fly off its handle and smack Deathstroke in the back of the head, dropping him face first. The impact cracked his nose against his faceplate, he could feel the blood trickling down his face. 'This is turning out to be much harder than I thought it would be' he thought to himself.

Slade got up slowly, only to be flattened again by the heavy brick wall. The civilians screamed at the sight, but they soon calmed down when they saw the big red S and the bright red cape. Diana appeared seconds after, her eyes scanning the area for any more threats.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked.

They just stared at him in awe. Gotham's citizens had never seen superheroes, and if they did they had never seen any like Superman. As it was Superman never left his home turf of Metropolis. Clark was suddenly painfully conscious of how strange it was that he should be here. People would ask questions. 'Better get the job done and leave ASAP', he thought to himself.

He gave everyone the once over with his x-ray vision, noting that only one person was hurt, he flew over to the man. Behind him, Diana, still seething from the perceived slight, lifted the brick wall as though it was made of styrofoam. Deathstroke lay underneath it, unmoving and covered in dust. He groaned in pain. He was pretty sure everything was broken. It would take at least a week for everything to heal up. He realized he would probably be in prison by that time. Slade groaned again before passing out.

Clark was surprised to find the injured man was none other than Bruce Wayne, the man who had taken great pains to have the Daily Planet team transported to and from Gotham. Beside him was a pretty young woman, a look of concern on her face.

"Ahem. Mr Wayne, you're hurt. Have you been shot? You should probably get that looked at."

"I'm fine. It's just a scratch." Bruce replied gruffly.

"Are you sure? I can-"

"You broke the wall."

"Pardon?"

"I said, you broke the wall. Do you know what it costs to fix that?"

"Sir, I'm sorry about the wall-"

"Sorry won't fix it now, will it?" Bruce said dryly, looking at Clark with hostility.

"Look sir, I just saved your life. The least you could do is show some gratitude." He could feel the people around him recoiling in fear. The slightest sign of anger from him scared them. But not Bruce.

"This isn't Metropolis, 'Superman'. You'll find were not so quick to worship

He just kept on glaring at him. Clark sighed. "Again, I'm sorry about the wall." He flew out through the hole, taking to the skies.

"That wasn't very nice Bruce." Zatanna chided him. Bruce grunted.

"He did save your life y'know."

"Never asked him too. Just like I didn't ask you to heat up the gun or throw the extinguisher at him." She faltered slightly. "What, did you think I wouldn't notice? Better hope no one else did, or you'll be explaining to your manager how your stage act isn't really an act."

She tried to change the subject. "He was nice. Very polite."

"For an alien."

"You just don't like him, do you?"

"It's not a question of liking him. My opinion doesn't-"

"Nope. You said that already. Have an opinion for god's sake."

"He's not human Zatanna. For all we know he operates on a whole different set of rules."

"For all we know he's not a bad person. He broke the wall, fine, but he did it to save your life. And it's not like you can't afford to fix it."

"Look, I'm human, and I don't even trust most humans. Why is that? Because I know what humans are capable of. Our species is dangerous enough. An alien is something else entirely. And like I told you, I didn't need saving."

The conversation continued as they walked outside into the frigid night air.

"You didn't seem too ticked off when Wonder Woman wrecked the place."

"She didn't. HE, whoever that guy was, he did it. Besides, she's a guest of honour and new at the heroics business, so I'll cut her some slack.

"I'll bet that dress had nothing to do with it.." Zatanna mumbled.

He ignored that comment. "Superman"-he said the word awkwardly-"has been in.. the business for as long as I have. Longer actually. He should know better."

"God Bruce! You are such an arrogant prick! 'I didn't need saving'.'He should know better'. Really? What about everyone else in the building, what about me? Were you thinking of us during your little Rambo moment?"

Bruce stopped walking. He knew he should say something, but he didn't know what.

"Exactly!" she said. "You know Bruce, I really don't know why I bother with you sometimes. I don't think anyone can love you as much as you love yourself, and that's really saying something because you don't even like who you are." She stormed off before he could say anything.

Just then Bruce heard a loud thump. His head whirled from left to right, his senses on full alert.

Clark cursed silently and came out from his hiding place behind the van. He had just come here to change out of his costume and he didn't mean to eavesdrop. Thinking fast, he took out a cigarette from Lois' pack and lit it, blowing smoke as he approached Bruce Wayne for the second time that night.

"Sorry about that, didn't mean to eavesdrop. I came out for a smoke.."

Seeing that it was a stranger with a reporters badge and not a threat, Bruce quickly put on his 'rich asshole' demeanor.

"Its ok. Bitches right?"

"Yeah." Clark said, a little stunned. It was like he was talking to a whole different person.

"Um, you're bleeding sir." Clark pointed with his cigarette.

"It's just a scratch. Tripped down the stairs on my way out."

"Ok." (Liar).

"Clark? Clark? Where are you Smallville!?"

At the sound of Lois' voice Clark hastily put out the cigarette. "Girlfriend wants me to quit. She'd kill me if she knew I was smoking." he said in reply to Bruce's inquisitive glance. Clark held out his hand. "See you around man." After a moments hesitation Bruce grasped it. "Yeah, sure. Whoa, that's quite a grip you got there." Bruce watched as the man jogged off towards the direction the voice was coming from. 'I really need to hit the weights harder. That's twice today someone else was stronger than me.' he thought to himself.

He could hear police sirens, indicating the ever 'resourceful' GCPD was on its way. About damn time too. Their response times were getting worse. He signaled to the valet to get his car. He didn't feel up to sticking around and answering questions from the Police when he knew they would do little if anything in the form of a follow up investigation. The valet returned, looking pale and sweaty despite the cold.

"Uh.. Um.. Sir.. There's been an accident sir.. I'm afraid your car.. Well um.. Its.."

"Yes?" Bruce asked in an irritated tone.

"Well, I'm afraid its.. its been totaled. If you'd just follow me.."

Bruce obeyed silently. If one of these kids had wrecked his car taking it on some joyride instead of parking it, there would be hell to pay. The valet stopped before a smashed, black mass of metal. There was actual physical pain in Bruce's chest as he stared blankly at the wreckage.

The earth seemed to spin for a moment.

That was his favorite car. He had a lot of cars, but that was his favorite.

A Lamborghini Veneno, custom made to his taste. Modifications on the engine and chassis to make it even faster and more stable.

Bulletproof glass, monogrammed racing seats and an interior made of calfskin. Lacquered finish on the carbon fibreglass, a polished aluminum finish on the car console. A perfect trim/paint combination.

A sound system from Bang & Olufsen, with killer bass and excellent acoustics. Rims with a black anodized finish.

Cost him nearly $10 million after all was said and done(excluding other costs such as deposit,import,taxes,service charges and builders fees) and he had to wait nearly a year for Lamborghini to build it.

His left eye twitched.

"Uh,your keys sir." Bruce took it without looking, grasping it so tightly in his fist the metal key ring was bent flat and blood seeped from the wound on his shoulder. Veneno's were extremely rare, no more units had been made this year. All the others were already bought. In any case, he wanted one built to his specifications. He could repair it, but that would take ages.. And he knew from experience that once something was broken, it never worked the same way again, no matter how hard you tried to fix it.

Who would do this? Zatanna had a temper, but this wasn't her style. In fact, no one in Gotham was stupid enough to wreck Bruce Wayne's car. Gothamites knew his car as well as they knew his name. Everyone had seen or heard it at one point or another, tearing through the city streets, conveniently dodging routes with police patrol cars as if the driver had precognitive abilities(not that the GCPD would have ever caught him even if they tried).

Bruce switched seamlessly into detective mode. He looked around and noticed the car was parked just above the shattered window. Stepping forward he noted the unmistakable human shaped crater in the middle of the roof, the trail of blood leading from the car into the dark alley. He clenched his jaw, the rage coming off of him in waves that even the valet could detect. He decided to beat a hasty retreat.

The figure of a woman appeared at the broken window. His glare softened. For a moment he hoped it was Zatanna, but he ruled that out when the figure floated down from the window and landed soundlessly at his feet.

"Princess Diana."

"Mr Wayne."

She looked at the crushed car. "This is your vehicle?"

"Yes. Regrettably. It seems it was damaged in the fight."

"My apologies. Chaos seems to follow me everywhere I go. I hope this doesn't taint your opinion of me. I know first impressions are a big deal here."

"No apologies necessary. It wasn't you that knocked him out of the building." To defuse the awkwardness he added with a grin, "A 'big deal' huh? I see you've picked up on some of our speech mannerisms."

She laughed then, a trilling musical laugh.

"Yes. My assistant is responsible for that. English is fascinating. A single word can have so many meanings,and there are different ways for the language to be interpreted."

"You're a fast learner." he remarked.

"You have no idea." she said. They held each others gaze for awhile, until they both realized they were doing it for a little too long.

Diana spoke first."So,how will you get home?"

Bruce cleared his throat, something he never did." .. I could get a cab. Or I could call my butler.."

Her face brightened up suddenly."I can fly you there."

"What?"

"I can fly you to your residence. Wayne Manor is not too far from this place"

"Ah-ha-ha-ha. Uh, as tempting as that offer sounds, I will have to turn you down Princess. I'll make my own way back if thats alright with you."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Ok. I hope we can do this again some other time, without such... interruptions. Until next time Mr Wayne." Flashing him a dazzling smile, she floated slowly into the sky and back into the hotel.

"Until next time Princess Diana." He replied with an equally radiant smile.

As soon as she was gone Bruce began mentally chiding himself.

What the hell was that? That terrible, mechanical frat-boy laugh? 'As tempting as that offer sounds'? God, Wayne, you're losing your edge. You've seen your fair share of pretty women before, this shouldn't be any different...

Maybe I do need to get out more. Can't be flirting with every pretty face I come across.

A small part of Bruce was happy though.

It thought only one thing: I've still got it.

In their haste to leave the area after the mild flirting, neither Bruce nor Diana noticed the photographer snapping several shots of them and slipping quietly back into the alley. They would know about it soon enough.

He pulled out his smartphone and dialed Alfred. "Alfred. Change of plans. The party didn't go as planned. Come pick me up at the hotel. Yes, just me. She.. she had to go. Look, just come and pick me up, you can lecture me when we get home. Thanks. Bye."

Bruce pocketed the phone and walked into the hotel foyer. The sirens were getting closer. Hopefully Alfred would get here fast and he wouldn't have to answer pointless questions. Unlikely. He sounded upset that Bruce had ditched Zatanna (not what happened at all) so he would probably take his sweet time, just to punish him.

But more than that, he was itching to get home and get on his computer.

Someone attacked his party.

Tried to kill him.

At his hotel.

In his city.

He was going to find out who that was, and he was going to.. he clenched his hands as he remembered his wrecked car. That was another thing. Superman in Gotham? That felt wrong for so many reasons. Were the two connected? Perhaps. Bruce could already tell he wouldn't be getting any sleep for awhile.

He would be working this case until he figured everything out.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

 **A/N: As always, read and review.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Blue Marlin Hotel**

"You smell like smoke. Since when do you smoke?"

"I don't.." Screw it, he thought.

"I've been trying to quit, but stressful situations like these, they're triggers, y'know?"

"Oh yeah. Totally get you. I'm craving a cig right now.. Wait, nice try Smallville. You won't get off the hook that easily. Where the hell were you? I-We were worried about you."

"Yeah Clark, were supposed to be a team bro. I'd hate to tell the chief you got shot full of holes by a crazed gunman. You know how much he likes you." Jimmy added, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Uh, I was carried away by the crowd. It was almost a stampede. I got down to the safe rooms with everyone else, and then I went outside when everything settled down."

Lois narrowed her eyes. "Jimmy and I were in the safe room too. How come we didn't see you?"

"Give the guy a break Lois. We barely found each other in time. It was crazy down there, everyone was freaking out, he was probably just lost in the fray." Lois gave him a look that seemed to say, who's side are you on?

Thank you Jimmy, Clark thought. "So, uh, do you guys know what happened? One minute I was with the other reporters and the next it was all out war."

"Don't be so ridiculous Smallville. 'War' is a bit of an exaggeration. Weren't there any fights back in the sticks? Or was the whole town like the Camden family from 7th Heaven?"

She continued speaking before he could reply.

"Anyway, this walking suit of armor crashed through the glass and started shooting up the place. 'Wonder' Woman tangoed with him for a little, but she couldn't handle him. And then Superman"-she said his name with a breathy sigh-"he came in and saved the day."

"Isn't it weird how Superman was here though, right when we needed him? I mean, as far as I know he never leaves Metropolis, so what the hell was he doing in Gotham of all places?" asked Jimmy.

"Well, maybe he was pursuing the.. walking suit of armor, and it led him here." Clark suggested. "Did you get any photos of him?" he asked hopefully(hopefully not).

"Nah. The bust up happened right when we were being evacuated. Couldn't get a decent shot."

At least there's no evidence of me being here. With any luck the media will put it down to Gotham's weird rumors, he thought. Yeah right. I have the worst luck on the planet. He sighed.

"Well, at least the night wasn't a total waste. Lois got to interview some people, Jimmy you got some good pictures in, and I.."

"You what?" Lois asked pointedly.

"I'll figure out a way to put it all together." he replied with a rare smile. Jimmy smiled too, as did Lois, though she fought it all the way.

For all her snide comments and bullying of Clark, at the end of the day he was the guy that took their raw effort and laid it out in such a way that it was engaging, presentable, and easy to absorb. In the field, Lois was team leader. It suited her action-oriented nature. But when it came to the office, it usually fell on ol' reliable Clark to hold it all together. Jimmy was terribly disorganized(many a time Clark wondered how he ever got anything done) and Lois was too erratic.

"So, home?" Jimmy asked.

"I guess so. Clearly there's not much that'll be going on here. This whole soiree will probably be postponed. I feel like a drink though. Our ride won't be here for a few more hours. We may as well do something. Don't look so miserable you two, I'm buying. Clark, you know the drill. If.. When we get too wasted, you carry us home."

 **Klarion Bar**

Lex Luthor, Oliver Queen, Ted Kord and Bruce Wayne sat at the bar. Lex was drinking J&B on the rocks, Oliver was drinking vodka neat, an open bottle of Grey Goose beside his glass. Ted Kord was drinking a glass of wine, and Bruce Wayne sipped from a bottle of mineral water. The wasted night was the topic of discussion.

"I didn't even get to talk to the Princess. That's the only reason I came all the way out here." Lex moaned."She really is something though, isn't she? Give me five minutes in a room with her and.." his sentence trailed off as he took a deep drink from his glass. He was clearly more than a little tipsy.

The other three men shifted uncomfortably. Oliver and Bruce were raised in true old-money fashion. For all their playboy antics, at heart they had good manners and chivalry. It's not that they weren't thinking the same thing as Lex, just that they were less inclined to put their thoughts into words. Ted Kord was a reserved person, shy around strangers, as small town folk often are.

Except he wasn't from a small town, he just owned a small company. He felt like a dull witted country boy, sitting with legendary businessmen like Lex Luthor,Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen at the same table. He was fairly new to all this, and he didn't know how to relate with his fellow businesspeople just yet. Still, he felt he had to say something. He may never walk with such giants again.

"How about that Superman character?" he asked.

Lex groaned."Don't remind me. What was he even doing here anyway? I can tolerate him back home, but here? Isn't Gotham the home of, y'know, 'The Batman'?"

Everyone seemed to turn to Bruce, as though he was the expert. Which he was.

He grinned bashfully."Don't look at me. I don't even know if he's real."

"Well, say what you will about the big guy, but he saved our asses, that's for sure." said Oliver as he poured himself more vodka.

"Yes, he did, but at what cost? He broke down an entire wall stopping one guy. One." Lex held up a finger as he drained his glass. "I mean, what if he hurt someone, an innocent bystander? Who's to say he didn't? All the crap he's knocked down, blown up, smashed to bits in his years of 'service', who knows? He could have even killed some people in the process."

Bruce found himself agreeing with Lex, much to his disgust. "He wrecked my car." he said sadly.

"Oh man, the Lambo? I heard you paid a pretty penny for it. Shame, to think its all just jagged metal now. But hey, you should look into getting a bike. I got myself a Ducati Panigale 1299. Moves like lightning." Queen remarked, topping up his glass. Bruce noted the bottle was almost half empty, but Oliver wasn't slurring and his coordination was normal. It was like he had never left. Same old Ollie. Living Fast, Dying Young. He must've missed the playboy life when he was stranded... wherever it was he had been stranded.

Oliver noticed him watching. "Relax Bruce, I'm not gonna ride my bike after this. I'll be staying here overnight. Star City can last one night without me."

Lex continued as though the two had never spoken. "How long until Superman crosses that line? What will stop him from crossing it?" No one answered him. He turned so that he was facing each of them, his eyes stopping on Ted Kord.

"You, Kord, aren't you worried?" Ted Kord was stunned that Lex Luthor even knew his name, but he managed to reply, "Hm, no. No, not really. He's not a bad guy, that much is obvious. Does he break things? Sure, but with his power levels he could do a lot worse. I think we should give him a chance, he's been nothing but good to us so far."

Oliver smiled and wiped a fake tear from his eye, sobbing theatrically. "Oh, Ted, you saint."  
Even Oliver Queen knew his name. That was a confidence booster.

"Well now hold on, weren't you supporting him just now?"

"No. I said he saved our asses. He seems like a nice guy, but who knows? He could be one bad day away from turning into an evil overlord. You can't trust a person blindly. That's foolishness. Besides, you really think the government doesn't have something in place for him already? Remember Snowden? They're watching everything. I'm pretty sure the Army has some giant robot sitting in a lab somewhere just waiting for someone to push that big red button."

A young man beside them scoffed into his drink. "Something funny sir?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that it always amuses me when I hear rich guys like you talk as if life is so harsh for them. 'Remember Snowden'? Really Mr Queen, that's just naive. Of course the government is watching us. Your companies develop the technology that allows them to do so. All of you have had government contracts at some point or another. In fact, that's how Mr Wayne here rakes in most of his billions. Military communications. Satellites, micro-sim chips,comm-links, am I right?"

"What's your point?" Bruce asked pointedly.

"My point? Your friend here should stop acting like he's raging against the machine. We ALL know that machine, that 'system', its what allows the 1%;people like you, the filthy rich, to survive. If you really want to help, then help. The car you own, you could have used that money to develop Gotham-"

"Now who's being naive Mr Social Justice? You think you can just throw money at the worlds problems and they'll all go away? Do you really think its that simple? Oh, and just so you know, they don't call us billionaire playboy PHILANTHROPISTS for nothing." Oliver added heatedly.

"No, we can't blame him. You sound like a small town guy, and I don't mean that as an insult. Where you come from, everyone is probably really nice to everyone else. You get apple pies from your neighbours, you all go to church together, and everyone is one big happy that's a fine way to live, but its not how life is in Gotham. That true blue American ideal, it doesn't work here. Gotham is another animal entirely. Bruce added solemnly.

"You're right. I'm not from Gotham, and I'm glad that this isn't my home. I may not be a billionaire philanthropist, but I do believe I do more to help the average person than you do. But, I digress, you one per centers probably know a lot more about the common man's problems than I do."

Lex Luthor laughed loudly. "This kid has got some balls! What's your name sir, and who do you work for?"

"Clark Kent. I work for- "

"The Daily Planet" Bruce said with distaste.

"Yes. I'm guessing you're not too fond of us."

"No."

"May I ask why?"

"You have a habit of kissing Superman's ass. I liked you better when you were writing the gossip column."

"Oh shit. Shots fired." Oliver said with a smile as he poured himself some more vodka.

Clark swallowed his rage. "I wouldn't put it quite like that."

"Oh? Because that was me putting it gently. I get that he's your hometown hero and all, but could you take it down a notch?"

"Well, at least he's not like this Batman you have in Gotham. Superman is a beacon of hope for the good. This Batman, assuming he's real, he works at night. What does that say about him?"

Now it was Bruce's turn to swallow his rage."I don't see what the time of day has to do with a persons allegiance."

"Don't you? He works from the shadows. Under cover of darkness. No one knows who or what he is. How do you know you're safe? Who knows if he's in league with the criminal elements of Gotham? How can you trust him? He could be one bad night away from turning into a criminal overlord." He smiled warmly, paid for his drink and left the bar. It was only as he walked away that Bruce realized it was the same man he had met outside the hotel.

The four men sat in silence for a few moments, each in his own world.

Ted Kord cleared his throat awkwardly. "So, do you guys like football?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

It was almost 2 hours later that Bruce left the hotel.  
He had been standing at the balcony, looking out at the night sky when he heard her voice. He had only heard it once, but he knew he would recognize it anywhere.

"Still here Mr Wayne?"

"I could ask the same of you, Princess."

"Reconsidering my offer?" she asked with a smile.

"I'm afraid the answer is still the same. Terrible fear of heights you see."

"And yet here you stand, at the balcony, atop one of the tallest buildings in Gotham."

Bruce chuckled. "Floating high in the sky and standing on a tall building are two different things."

They stood in comfortable silence for a little while, looking at the stars.

"I like talking to you Mr Wayne. You are not like other men." she said plainly.

She's certainly candid, he thought."I'm flattered, but I feel the need to ask, what are other men like?"

"By now, another man would have asked me if I have a boyfriend, am I a lesbian, what is my telephone number, or if I have a sister.."

They both laughed.

"Well, on behalf of my gender, I apologise." He paused. "So, what do you think of the modern world?"

She was silent for a while, as though she was picking her words carefully.

"It is.. hard to describe. Mankind has made so many advances in the field of technology. That is an admirable feat.  
You have cars, planes, trains, all manner of sophisticated utilities to make work.. life easier.  
You have developed the cures for many ailments that were once lethal.  
But you also build weapons capable of leveling entire cities, have given rise to illnesses that wipe out millions each year.  
You look the other way when people suffer. Men, women and children starve to death, are decimated by bombs, drown in the seas fleeing their war-torn homes trying to get to a better life..  
People die in the worst ways, so needlessly. And the world.. The world turns its back on them. Those who can help try to absolve themselves from their duty.  
This whole world is festering with corruption, in so many forms. For all its technological, social and cultural advancements, mankind is still incredibly backward. You still discriminate against people based on their class,race, gender, sexual orientation, and most recently, species and the presence or absence of a meta-gene. But more than that, your very existence poisons the earth itself.  
There is a lot of good, but the bad overwhelms it, drowns it all out."

"Wow. Yeah, that's basically it." Bruce chuckled.

"I must sound very pessimistic.."

"No, not at all. If anything, you're a realist. That's one thing we have in common." He said before he could stop himself.

She smiled. "Yes, that and our.. persecution by the media." She inclined her head at him.

Oh, god. She's been reading the Gotham tabloids. She probably thinks I'm a hedonistic chauvinist. And I care what she thinks because...? Wait, she's talking again..

"...But after having spoken to you, I can see you are not the zany madcap the papers say you are."

"And after speaking to you I can see you are not an evil pagan witch sent to lead us astray."

They both laughed again. This is getting too real, he thought to himself. Where the hell is Alfred? Right on cue, his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Excuse me." he said before answering it.

"Master Bruce,I'm afraid I won't be able to make it. A flat tire you see, and just my luck, no spare. Perhaps I can call you a cab." Classical music was playing rather loudly in the background.

"Where are you Alfred? I can hear music playing in the background."

"Why in the car of course sir! The music is from my personal mix."  
Bullshit. Alfred was as proficient with technology as Bruce was with a mop. He was being punished for ditching Zatanna. The irony was Zatanna ditched him.

"Alright Alfred. See you in a little while." The phone clicked off on the other end with no reply.

It must be fate, he thought. Bruce turned back to Diana.

"Any chance I can get that free lift back home?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

 **A/N: Was gonna have Clark and Bruce get to know each other as Superman and Batman first before exploring their different views, but after watching the BvS trailer I thought fuck it, lets have them butt heads from the start. I repeat my warning. None of these 'ships are set in stone, by the time this whole series is over, everyone will have been with everyone. Probably.**

 **As always, read and review.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:To The Obsidian Warlock.**

 **I've thought about what you said, and I will try to incorporate it. Trust me, you are going to love this chapter. But you should realize I can't do a complete 360 and stray from the tone I had set. Now THAT is bad writing. I also want you to understand what I'm going for. I was going to write a long elaborate note to you, but I just decided to use this quote from a conversation Clark Kent and Dick Grayson have when Clark learns Dick faked his death to infiltrate Spyral, and Dick learns Clark is depowered and living a tumultuous life. You sound like a smart guy, I'm sure you'll get the gist.**

 **Clark: *sighs* "The lives of superheroes, huh?"**

 **Dick: "Yeah, lives. If you can even call them that."**

 **PS: Alekile, yes, we will be seeing those two, but that comes so much later it's hardly worth mentioning now.**

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"Are you feeling alright sir? You look a little queasy."

"I'm fine. Just a little tired. And dehydrated. Be a dear and get me a bottle of water,and some ice please."

"Right away sir."

Lex leaned back, trying to get comfortable in the chair that felt like it was made of brick. He tipped his head up, staring at the ceiling. Today was the big day, but he was feeling crappy. One too many drinks and not nearly enough sleep last night. He didn't even make it to the gym today. The pounding in his head outweighed the reward of being ogled by his trainer.

Should I postpone it? It couldn't hurt could it? What's one more day? He'll always be around.. No, I have to do it today.

Last night was an excellent reminder of why he should do so. Being in close proximity to Superman was..exciting, he couldn't deny that. He couldn't deny it, but he could rationalize it as a simple adrenal response, something he had no control over. It would be much more exciting today.

"How long does it take to get a bottle of water?" he asked aloud. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table.

The phone rang, loudly. He winced as it continued ringing. After some deliberation he picked up the receiver. It had to be important, very few people had his direct line.

"Speak."

"Mr Luthor sir. Professor Ivo here. The subject has exceeded the upper limits in all the tests, far beyond what we expected. I still have a few adjustments to make but I do believe its ready."

Lex sat forward in his chair, barely breathing.

"Uh.. Hello? Mr Luthor? Are you there sir?"

"Yes.I'm here. How soon can you make it operational?"

"Well, we can have it up and running in a matter of weeks.."

"Weeks! What the hell do you mean by ready, if you'll have it OPERATIONAL, IN WEEKS?"

"Well sir, the project requires more time. It passed the tests but that doesn't guarantee success in the field. There are still some calibrations required-"

"I made those calculations myself Ivo! They're fine!"

"Actually I sad CALIBRATIONS sir, not calculations-"

"I know what you said!"

"Well then sir, what would you have me do?" Ivo asked coolly. He was the only man in his employ that was unfazed by Luthor's(frequent) outbursts.

"Hold everything. I'm coming over there right now."

"Very well. And what shall I tell the General?"

Lex's voice became deathly calm. "Who is funding this initiative, Professor?"

"Why, the military and your company sir."

"Exactly. And where does the technology that makes this possible come from?"

"Lexcorp sir."

"So, what are you going to tell the General?"

"Er.. Nothing sir."

"Good." He put down the receiver and leaned back in the chair. It felt a lot more comfortable. More plush leather, less Iron Throne. If he could just get that water now...

Gotham, Wayne Manor Alfred Pennyworth stood at the foot of the stairs, wondering if he should interrupt Bruce during his workout(Bruce HATED being interrupted during a workout, or 'training' as he stubbornly called it) or if he should just wait and give him the bad news later, when he was eating. That was a better idea, the young master was always at his most 'human' so to speak, when eating.

Then again, Bruce always insisted on hearing bad news right away.

His slippers padded softly against the stone floor of the cave as he walked, barely audible even to his own ears. As he approached the 'pit' as Bruce called it, he paused to watch the young master at work. He was blindfolded, performing an intricate gymnastic routine. Alfred held his breath as Bruce soared through the air and landed on the parallel bars, supporting his entire body weight on the balls of his hands. His eyes widened as Bruce walked across the bars with his hands,lowered himself between them, pushed up with explosive force then executed a double front-flip, landing nimbly on the ground with more grace than a man of his height and bulk should ever have.

"What." Bruce said flatly. Not even bothering to stop his movements, he grasped the gymnastic rings and pulled himself effortlessly up into an iron cross.

"Have you slept at all?"

"No." came the curt reply. He swung his body between the rings, letting go of them and then catching them again.

"Any leads in the case?"

"No."

"I take it there was a mental block?"

"Yes."

"And so you decided to give your mind a break by exercising your body?"

"Yes."

"Someday sir, you'll have to tell me how you do that."

"Willpower." he replied as he raised his lower half and tipped his head forward, making him look like he was poised to dive into the ground.

"Ha. Was that a joke master Wayne?"

Bruce released his grip and dropped to the floor headfirst, arching his body at the very last minute so that he landed on the balls of his feet. He untied his blindfold and sipped from a water bottle. "The day I crack a joke Alfred, is the day I'll wear brown shoes with a black suit."

"Was that a joke?"

"Alfred, you interrupted my training. I assume it was for a better reason than wordplay."

"The board of directors has had your position revoked."

"That's hardly news Alfred. The board has been doing that for years. What is it for this time?"

"They say that...fraternization with characters of questionable moral and ethical beliefs is bad for the company image."

"Well, that's one I haven't heard in a while." Bruce remarked. "I can't think of anything Bruce Wayne has done to credit that." Alfred frowned.

"You know sir, that I don't like you referring to yourself like that. As though you were a caricature and not a real person."

An argument as old as time. Bruce acted like he never heard him.

"Is this about Oliver? Whose wife did he seduce this time?"

Alfred sighed. "Perhaps you should take a look at the papers. Or the computer. Or the television. I'm certain they're talking about it on the radio too.." he said as he walked away.

Bruce walked over to the computer and switched it on. There was a tray with a pot of coffee, and a plate of steak and eggs, the steam still coming off of them. Someday he would have to ask Alfred how HE did that.

He minimized the case files he had been working on and pulled up the news feed.

There were photos. So many of them. It looked like someone had taken a shot every single second. What was it called again? Bursts? Scatters? He couldn't remember.

Bruce Wayne and Princess Diana. A fantasy match-up no one had never even thought about until someone did.

He opened another page, an article from TMZ. The title screamed, "PRINCE OF GOTHAM COURTS PRINCESS OF THEMYSCIRA?"

Bruce groaned at the sheer cheesiness of the title. He was surprised the writers had spelt Themyscira correctly. Opening the article he quickly skimmed through it. Bits of writing stuck in his mind.

'..were spotted flirting and laughing together..'

'..sources state the two were very cozy most of the night in the privacy of the V.I.P section..' Lies. For the most part. Excluding the press and staff, everyone who attended was a V.I.P.

"I don't have time for this." He closed all the pages and reopened the case file he had been working on all night. Picking up a fork and knife he cut the steak into little pieces and did the same with the eggs, mixing them up to make it easier to eat. There was a note under the plate. It simply read: 'Shower first' in Alfred's neat, cursive handwriting. He crumpled up the note and tossed it into a wastepaper basket.

Finally, he cracked his knuckles and got down to work.

 **3 Hours later..**

Still nothing.  
No, that wasn't right, there was something, but it was too little to go on.  
His name was Slade Wilson, alias Deathstroke. He was a mercenary and assassin. Very expensive, information on him painfully scarce, and finding the little there was about him hadn't been easy. Deathstroke was obviously good at his job. After that, the trail went cold.

Think Bruce, think. He rubbed his bleary eyes. Interrogation was out of the question. By now this Deathstroke would be in a hospital,certainly under heavy police guard. Upon discharge he would likely be transferred to a high security holding cell until he faced judgement in court.

"I could probably get in and out undetected, but that would mean waiting until nightfall, and I need answers now..."

Be resourceful. Work with what you have. Maybe it was time to test that connection with Gordon. Later. For now, make sense of the information you have.

Bruce made a list split into two, what he knew and what he didn't.  
What he knew:Deathstroke was a highly skilled mercenary and an assassin.  
2.90% chance he was ex-military, as people in his line of work often were.  
was in Gotham.  
4\. Superman was in Gotham.

What he didn't know:  
did he arrive in Gotham?  
2\. How long had he been in Gotham?  
was his base of operations?  
4\. Who hired him?  
was he hired?  
6\. Where did Superman fit into all of this?

It was useless tackling the first 5 queries without more data. If he did that he would be forcing the facts to fit his theories, and that would be bad detective work. He could however, speculate about Superman, because he wasn't going to get any information out of him.

Satellites monitored everything that happened over Wayne Manor and the rest of Gotham. They would have alerted him if there was a UFO over the area. Bruce would have doubted any other tech, but his satellites were easily the most advanced on the planet, he was confident they were working properly.

That rules out Superman flying into the city.. Which means what?  
He opened one of his videos of the alien in action, an old video,the very first in fact, back when Superman wore a t-shirt, jeans and boots.  
Back then everyone had been so scared of him. The military didn't help by going after him.

They spent nearly a year hitting him with everything they had and he just kept getting back up. People feared him even more after that. Bruce had never really liked him. He didn't hate him, but he didn't like him either. He was suspicious of him. That was pretty much how he felt about most people.

And now? Going on 6 years later?  
It wasn't quite so bad, but people still feared him of course. That would never go away, as sure as people feared death. Fear of the unknown lasts forever.

Still,all these years Superman had never crossed that red line. Never killed anyone. He could do it so easily, Bruce thought as he watched the alien rip through a tank like it was made of wet cotton. The fact that he didn't, well that had to count for something surely. Reining in that impulse, it took strength. Mental fortitude.

...If the satellites didn't show any activity, perhaps Superman used other means to get into Gotham? But he dismissed that notion as quickly as it came up. He would have to know Gotham was being watched, which was a possibility because he was capable of going into space. The military surveillance satellites showed that much.

He dismissed that notion as well. Satellites hovering over Gotham would look just like any other satellites hovering over the earth. There was no way Superman would have known the difference. Unless he was as smart as he was powerful, which Bruce highly doubted. In any case, knowing Gotham was under surveillance would make him doubly cautious, he wouldn't have blown his cover so easily.. Unless he was forced to? Perhaps there was a relation between Deathstroke and Superman.

Again, it was highly unlikely. They were just too different in too many ways. Deathstroke reeked of Underworld Crime. Of dark,shadowy, off the books acts. Somehow he was just right for Gotham, even if he couldn't figure out what he was doing there. Yet. Superman was, as Clark Kent had so eloquently put it, a 'beacon of hope' type of hero. No way he got mixed up with mercenary assassins.

Which brought him back to Deathstroke. He was obviously here on a mission. An assassination? Possibly. But who? He attacked at a high profile event, with lots of important people. Business magnates,a few of the Military's top brass, even a handful of celebrities. Too many possibilities.

An assassin of his caliber could easily make the kill shot from a distance. The office building across the hotel was good enough. In fact it was an excellent vantage point. So why show himself?

His cellphone buzzed in his pocket. He hated being interrupted when working a case.

"What!" he barked.

"Uh, hello, is this Mr Wayne? Mr Bruce Wayne?"

"Yes, this is he."

"Great. We're calling you from TMZ-"

Idiots, he thought as he hung up and turned off his phone.

So why show himself? Maybe he didn't mean to? No, that was a rookie mistake, which Deathstroke was not. When you have eliminated all possibilities, whatever remains must be the truth.

He wanted to be seen. Why?

 **St Maria Hospital, Just outside Gotham**

"Man. Look at him."

"You look at him. He makes me sick."

"His face is pretty jacked up isn't it?"

"That's one way of putting it. What happened to his eye?"

"Hell if I know man. It is really weird though. I've never actually seen a one eyed man before."

"I can't believe he's still alive. That wall must've weighed a ton."

"They say by the time the paramedics showed up, he was already conscious. Said he should've died from internal injuries, but they think his armor protected him. Here's the weird bit, his armor is made of a metal that apparently doesn't even exist yet. Had weapons on him, some were way advanced. Space age shit, this stick that shoots lasers, guns that shoot lasers. He had some old school stuff too. Regular guns, some knives, some gas pellets, a sword-"

"Did you see that sword? As long as my couch, as wide as my hip. Took three guys to carry it."

"Eerie."

"So what do you guys think? Alien? Time traveling gladiator?"

"I don't know. Really I don't care. I just want him locked up in a cage with all the other weirdo's."

"He'll get Supermax for sure. All these costumed freaks do."

"That's if he ever wakes up. Doctor says physically he's healing fast. Says its 'remarkable'. But mentally, the guy is toast. Brain dead."

"So he's like, retarded?"

"Guess so."

"Man. Sucks to be you Goldilocks."

"I'm hungry. Lets go get some food."

"Are you crazy? And leave that guy there?"

"He's not going anywhere Jensen. He's a cabbage-"

"I thought you said he was retarded."

"Same thing. Look, I'm hungry and I want to eat. Stay here if you want."

"I'm coming with you. Jensen? You coming or what?"

"All right all right.."

There was the sound of chairs scraping against the floor and feet scuffing the floor, then footsteps as the 3 police officers left the room.

Slade opened his eye, wincing slightly at the brightness.  
Thank God they left.  
He was reaching the breaking point. Their strong smells, their loud voices, the annoying creak of chairs each time one of them leaned forward in their chairs. Not to mention the strong hospital smells.  
The smell of blood, vomit, shit, death and disinfectant all rolled into one; his all too sensitive nose taking it in with every breath. Sometimes his enhancements were a burden.

Brain dead? Retard? Cabbage? He smiled coldly. Thank you Natas. And here I thought meditation was all some Eastern BS. He looked around the room. Nothing special. Next he examined himself. Scarring was almost completely healed, bruises were gone. In a way, he was lucky they took him to hospital. The strong medication coupled with his enhancements amped up his accelerated healing factor quite nicely. He looked at his hands, one was cuffed to the bed. Too easy, he thought.

He was just about to rip the steel bed frame off when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching his room. He quickly dropped back into a deep meditation, letting his enhanced senses do the monitoring for him.

It was obviously a woman, judging by the soft footfalls and the smell of lavender. Obviously a nurse. He detected a faint whiff of alcohol rub when the door was opened. A needle was jabbed into his forearm with all the ceremony of a slap. Next she plumped his pillow. "You're a big one, aren't you?" she said as she struggled to turn him over. "But we can't have you getting bedsores, can we? Even if you are a murderous psychopath." She stroked his hair. "Such lovely hair you have. Like liquid sunlight. I wonder how long it took you to grow that ponytail out.."

There was a shrill beeping sound, which he guessed was her pager. She left the room without a word, walking quickly. He opened his eye again. He was feeling a little drowsy. She must have given him some kind of... painkiller.. The room was swimming...

"Ahhh shiiit..."

He woke again, in a different position.  
Which meant the nurse had changed him over again.  
Which meant he had been out for a few hours. His mouth felt strange in a familiar way. He realized he had been gagged. His hands were bound much more strongly, strapped across his chest with thick metal chains wrapped around his body. The smells in the room were different. Not like the men before. It smelled... like rubber. Or plastic. He couldn't quite place it.

"Mr Wilson. Glad you're awake."

The voice was unnatural. Dry and raspy, but deep at the same time. Synthesizer, he thought immediately.

He opened his eye, slowly, cautiously. The lights were off. It was dark outside. Only the pale moonlight illuminated the room in irregular slats as it passed through the window grilles. There was a big black.. something at the foot of his bed.

"MMMfhggh kkshhy hrerrer" Slade said.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions Mr Wilson. You will shake your head yes or no."

"Fkkk uuu." He struggled against his bonds. To his surprise they were extremely strong.

"Don't bother. The chains are made from the same metal as your armor. Promethium. Designed to hold powerful metahumans. Like Superman. You found a clever use for it though. I'm a little jealous I didn't think of it myself."

"Hrrrr?"

"Don't look so surprised Mr Wilson. It doesn't take a genius to see you're not a normal human.  
I took a look at your chart. Healing is exponential. Your X-rays are very interesting too. Your bones and muscles are much denser than the average human. I'm guessing you can lift what, 2,3 tons max?  
And your weapons, very nice. I quite like the sword. I think I'll mount it on my trophy wall."

Slade was struck dumb.

"You're not the only one with access to fancy toys." The black figure whipped out a small device, which discharged bright sparks. "Just a simple taser I'm afraid. But it'll get the job done."

"Uuurgh nrrrt trrghlin uuuu shrrrt mrrdrrrfkkkkr"

"That's not very nice Mr Wilson. You really shouldn't swear like that." He pulled the sheet aside and put the taser at Slade's feet.  
"Did you know the soles of the feet are extremely sensitive? An ancient torture method I learned back in Mongolia, they whip the soles of the feet until the bones are visible. Sometimes they peel the skin off. Hurts like hellfire. I don't want to make a mess though, so I thought I'd add a little twist to an old classic."  
He pushed the button.

"MMMMMMMMMMMFGGGGGGGGGHETYRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

"Now you know what happens if you don't co-operate." The voice gained a hard edge. No more mocking. It was all business now.

"You came here for a job. To kill someone?"

Slade held up his middle fingers.

The dark figure sighed, as if to say, "I really didn't want to do this.."

"MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMSHAGSHAJUYTSGGGGGGGG!"

"Lets try that again. You're here in Gotham to kill someone, correct?"

Slade found himself nodding vigorously.

"Who?"

Silence.

This is going to hurt, thought Slade. But I have a code. I'll stick by it for as long as possible.

The walls glowed with light as the taser went to work once more.

 **15 minutes later..**

"I have to say Mr Wilson, I admire your bravery. The taser is almost out of charge. I've broken all the bones in your hands, and still you won't speak. That is impressive. You cried like a little bitch, wet the bed and you've even shit yourself. But, you've lasted far longer than anyone else."

Slade was shaking violently, his body bathed in sweat, the bedsheets soiled, stinking of urine and feces. His feet were practically charred. Tears flowed freely down his face. He had stopped fighting them long ago. He was thankful for the gag, without it he would have chewed his tongue out.

"Now I'll ask you again.. Who do you work for, and who are you here to kill?"

Slade sobbed miserably, but he still refused to answer.

The dark figure raised its hand dramatically, but instead of bringing the taser to his feet, he pulled the bed sheet lower and pulled up Slade's nightdress, exposing his genitals.

"What do you think Mr Wilson. If I fry those, will they grow back?" The figure asked menacingly.

Slade burst into fresh tears, weeping openly and hysterically. The figure leaned forward into the moonlight. For the first time Slade saw his face.

Cold, dead, white eyes against dark black flesh. Sharp, black horns sticking out from its head. The face set in a snarl that made him want to wet his pants all over again.

"Tell me." It said.

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmdfksghsgsadgfasdyfgsyuad! MMMMjsfhafkasghj!"

"What? I can't.." he looked down at Slade's broken, bent fingers. They were pointing at him, specifically, the insignia on his chest.

"Me? You were sent to kill.. me?"

Slade nodded violently. "mmmhmmm! Mhmmm!"

"Who sent you? Its the crime families, isn't it? Which one? Falcone or Maroni? Maroni... Thank you Mr Wilson. It goes without saying that if I ever see you again, this little chat will feel like a day at the spa compared to what I will do to you. Have a goodnight."

Slade wept again, this time with gratitude.  
He was knocked out with one hard, well placed punch to the side of the head. He slumped back in the sheets, soaking in the vile pool of his body fluids.

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 **A/N: This is what happens when you crash a party, wreck a $10 million super car and then try to kill someone.**

 **As always, read and review.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Good morning/afternoon/evening all. Another (short) chapter to tie up some loose ends. Also some intense violence just for you.**

 **Alekile, rest assured, Deathstroke will be back, and he will be bringing hell with him. I quite like him, he is the Anti-Batman (whatever people may say about Prometheus) and truthfully I think there is no better match for Batman physically and mentally, as well as morally.**

 **Smallville**

"I'm telling you, I'm fine Martha. Stop fussing over me and let me do my job. I've been doing this work for years, I'm not about to stop now in my old age."

Martha gave Clark a look as if to say, "You see what I have to put up with here?"

"Dad, we know."

Jonathan nearly hammered his own hand. He dropped his tools, straightened up and put his hands in his pockets.

"How long?"

"A while now. It's a small town. Word gets around." Clark said.

"Doctor patient confidentiality my..."

"Jonathan!"

"All right all right.. don't pop a blood vessel." he joked.

"That is not funny."

His face turned serious. "Okay then. I guess we should talk about this inside."

Clark picked them up easily, hovering slightly above ground until they reached the front porch.

"I can still walk you know. It's not that bad." said Jonathan sarcastically.

"I'll never get used to that. I've seen you do it a thousand times, but I just don't get how you do it." Martha remarked.

"I'm not sure I know how I do it either. My theory is the force of gravity was much higher on Krypton. That plus the sun supercharging me lets me fly. It's just a theory though." He added hastily. "Anyway, were not here to talk about me."

He opened the front door, letting his parents in first before shutting it behind him.

The house was just as he remembered it.  
The Kents were by no means wealthy, but they did ok. Their home was warm and cozy, filled with souvenirs Clark brought home on his travels as Superman. Colorful looking tapestries were hung on the walls and draped over some of the furniture. They were actually Indian blankets. Martha loved them, and Clark often brought some with him whenever he flew over some reservations. It was good to know not everyone feared him.

There were various beautiful carvings and small sculptures he found in the deep waters of the Pacific Ocean years ago when he was just starting out. He was rescuing a naval submarine that had run aground. He had to hightail it out of there when they fired several torpedos at him. Apparently they thought he was attacking them. As he left the gleam of something shiny caught his eye. Since then he had found many such artefacts in many parts of the ocean. Probably the relics of an ancient cruise ship that capsized many years ago. He had tried to take them to a museum, but that went about as well as expected, so everytime he found one, he brought it here.

On the walls were various framed photographs of the Kents over the years, smiling happily in all of them. Clark seemed to have several growth spurts over the years. Looking at the photos now Clark wondered if anyone in Smallville truly believed he was Jonathan and Martha's son. He didn't really look like either of them. Jonathan had black hair(salt and pepper now) and brown eyes with a round face and stocky build. Martha had brown hair and grey eyes with a stout frame. Both were short compared to Clark. Then again,almost everyone was shorter than Clark. There was also the fact that he was 'born' seemingly out of nowhere. Maybe the residents of Smallville suspected he wasn't their biological child, but decided to accept him as one of their own anyway. People here kept to themselves for the most part, and they never treated him any different. That was good enough for him.

Some of the frames contained the earliest articles Clark had written for the Daily Planet, with photos of Superman enclosed.

The three sat down at the dining table, where there was a pitcher of lemonade with ice and a cheesecake. Both men looked at Martha quizically.

"When?-" Clark began.

"Never you mind. That's my superpower." She said with a smile.

"Okay. So, what now?"

"Start at the beginning."*

 **Gotham**

Sal Maroni sat at the head of the table. His lieutenants, or capos, sat at either side of him. His fingers drummed the edge of the table.

"...so what they're saying is, he.. ah..it seems that uh, somehow, he failed. Thats not all. They say the Bat got to him. Really screwed him up." The man cleared his throat nervously. He knew his boss hated bad news. He often killed for less. "But, our boys in the PD say he won't be moving into the Supermax until next week. That gives us time. We can go for him."

"We?" Maroni asked. It was his first word in hours. He got up to fix himself a drink.

"Yeah.. Me and the boys.."

"Tell me something Franco. This uh, this 'hitman'. He was your idea, wasn't he?"

"I.. I suppose so."

Maroni stabbed the ice furiously with the ice pick, taking up the chunks and dropping them loudly into the glass. Next he poured in some whisky. Then he leaned against the bar and took a sip.

"Oh, you 'suppose' so?"

The other men at the table fidgeted uneasily, like errant children caught in the wrong.

"Well boss, it was my idea, yes. But.."

Maroni took another sip. "But?"

"But you implemented it."

There was a pregnant silence.

Maroni chuckled. His older associates knew that was a bad sign. Salvatore Maroni had a fat mans laugh, not a chuckle. In fact a chuckle meant he was decidedly NOT amused.

"Somehow.. it seems... I suppose.." Maroni recited. Without warning he smashed the heavy tumbler against the back of Franco's head. The impact rocked his head forward. Blood trickled from his head.

"I'm sorry boss.." he moaned as he tried to cover his head.

"Oh, you're sorry? You're sorry?" He picked up the bottle of scotch and smashed it over Franco's skull. The other men flinched.

"Sorry? You know how much credibility I lost? Do you know what that means in this business?" He whipped off his belt and wrapped it around Franco's throat. He gurgled noisily.

"Do"-SMACK-"You"-SMACK-"Know"-SPLAT-"What"-SPLATCH-"That"-SPLSHCH-"Means?!" Maroni asked as he slammed the man's head into the table. Franco's face was covered with blood, as was the table top. It looked like someone steamrolled his face. Blood leaked from his nose and mouth as he struggled to speak.

Maroni throttled him violently, throwing him to the ground. He picked up the barstool and proceeded to thump him with it, with amazing strength for a man his age.

"You think I got to the top by fucking up?" WHUMP "You think I built my reputation by failing?"  
WHUMP "You think sorry is enough? You think sorry will ever be enough?"  
WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP The bar stool shattered against Franco's back. He was barely conscious.

"Oh no, no, no. You can't pass out yet Franco. I'm not done with you yet kid."

He stomped down hard on his testicles, grinding them into the carpet. The man yelped like a dog who had been trodden on.

"You're going to fix this kid. You hear?" He grasped his hair and pulled hard on it. "You hear me?! Or I swear on my sweet mother's grave I will feed you your tiny little balls myself."

"Yeth.. I'll fixth ith.."

Maroni stomped and kicked him a few more times to ingrain the message.

"Damn fucking right you will." he said as he slicked his hair back. He sat down and pulled out a cigar, cut off the tip and lit it with a matchstick. The other men sat rigidly in their seats, too scared to move.

"You wanna clean this shit up?" He said to no one in particular.

The men fell over themselves carrying out his command.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

 **A/N: *Adapted from a Netflix show that trumped Supergirl without even trying. Can't wait for season 2.**

 **You guys might feel that I'm neglecting Diana. Trust me I'm not. I really like writing her, and I don't want her to come out forced. One should never force writing.**  
 **You might also feel I'm taking too damn long to get these guys together. Patience, grasshoppers. You can't rush perfection.**

 **As always, read and review.**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I don't know whats going on today. I just keep churning out ideas. It's like diarrhea. Idearrhea. You can go ahead and use that someplace. Make it sound like you're a witty MOFO who came up with it on the spot. Or you could sound really lame. I don't know.  
I really should be studying but I obviously don't care about my future,so I will almost certainly fail my GCSE's.**

 **And you don't give a shit about all that. So here's the story.**

Diana woke up in an unusually productive mood.  
The sun had already risen, the light seeping in through the maroon curtains was a bloody red. She slipped into a simple robe that had been discarded at the foot of the bed. The room was much more luxurious than her usual quarters. The ceiling had intricate, colorful floral patterns in it.  
There was a large crystalline chandelier in the middle of the room,easily the most beautiful item there. The bed was very soft, like sleeping on a giant sponge that adjusted itself every time you moved. She checked the label. It read MEMORY FOAM. She made a mental note to get that for her bedroom. The huge floor to ceiling windows were a nice touch as well, something she would take back to Themyscira. The architects would like it.

She brushed her teeth in the massive bathroom,checking her teeth every few strokes in the huge, ornate, gilded mirror that hung above the sink.

The bathroom was almost clinical in appearance. The color scheme was a minimalist black and white, with a cream colored bathtub on one end, and a very elaborate looking shower cubicle a small distance away from it. Diana wasn't too proficient with modern technology, so she opted for the bathtub, which was much more was a wide range of salts, body scrubs, facial scrubs,gels and creams arranged on its edge;along with several different types of brushes and loofahs.

How can one person use so much? she wondered. Back home they made do with a pumice stone and a stream of cold mountain water. She picked the least complex-looking bottle and sniffed it as hot water filled the tub. It smelled like honey and yoghurt. She poured a generous amount into the tub, gasping as it bubbled up quite rapidly. She slipped out of the gown and got into the tub.

There was a TV mounted opposite the bathtub. Now this I can operate, she thought. Looking around for the remote she realized it was embedded in a console on the bathtub.

I could get used to this.

After fumbling around for a bit, she figured out how to use it. She started channel surfing(one of the first things she learned to do).

"...rumor has it he will replace Hugh Jackman as Wolverine..."

*click*

"... that Colombians are upset with Steve Harvey for his mistake.."

*click*

"... is this pretty blue number right here. She matched it with the sneakers perfectly.."

*click*

"... burn fat fast with the Berry Blaster Body Booster.."

*click*

"...I know when that hotline bling.."

*click*

"... took place late last night at the Blue Marlin Hotel. Mercifully no one was hurt. Thank you Chris, out there in Gotham. I gotta tell ya,the world doesn't make sense like it used to in the old days folks. There's kids climbing walls in Forest Hills and goddesses humbling Presidents on national television*."

Diana rolled her eyes. She missed shaking the French President's hand after a conference and left him hanging. It seemed the world would never forget it, judging by the number of embellished images-or 'memes' as her assistant called them-on the world wide web.

*click*

"...that's right Cat. Bruce Wayne, Gotham's most eligible bachelor could be a bachelor no more. We can practically hear the hearts breaking across the country. Exclusive photos show Mr Wayne with none other than the most eligible bachelorette Princess Diana of Themyscira, or Wonder Woman if you prefer. I don't know about you Cat, but they look to be having a good time."

"Couldn't agree more Ryan. In this photo we can see them sharing a moment at the balcony, perhaps to get away from prying eyes. But this photo here is the winner. It looks like they're dancing in the sky. How romantic! And here we thought Bruce Wayne didn't have a romantic bone in his body!"

"It's very-"

*BOOP*

"I don't know why I waste my time with this drivel. Whatever good I do they will find a way to cheapen it."she mumbled. Thank Hera her mother didn't have television. If she did, Diana would be getting an earful right now.

She got out of the bathtub, toweled off and went into the bedroom. It was then that she noticed the package draped over the chair. It looked like a bag, but it was very thin. The label read Dior. There was a note attached.

I never take anything for free. Consider this dress payment for the lift you gave me. B.W.

At first she was a little off put by it. It felt a little condescending. Picking out a garment for her? Was she incapable? But then she calmed down a little when she realized it would save her from leaving in the same dress as last night(what her assistant called, the 'walk of shame'), and calmed down completely when she tore open the package and found a lovely olive green dress inside.

She put it on quickly and left the room, clutching her small overnight bag in her hands. She made a beeline for the elevators,and bumped into a familiar looking man.

"Whoa. Sorry about that. After you miss." he said.

They both stepped quietly into the elevator, the man going slower so as to let her in first.

"Goin' down." he said to no one in particular. He glanced at her,then looked away. He looked at her again more intently, his blue eyes searching her face. "Oh sh-Uh, Princess. You're the Princess, right? Sorry about that, terribly sorry. Where are my manners? You probably don't remember me, my name is Trevor. Stephen Trevor. Everyone just calls me Steve."

"Captain Steve Trevor,the celebrated war hero?" she queried.

"Uh, yeah, you remember. Actually its Colonel now. We met at-"

"The first ever graduation of two female Army Rangers at West Point. You were drunk and asked me to dance. Yes, I remember."

He scratched the back of his neck, as men do when they are shy.  
"Yeah, that's me.. I've been meaning to speak with you. Its a matter of great importance. I didn't get to do that last night what with all the chaos.."

"You can always schedule a meeting at the Embassy, Colonel."

"See that's the thing, I can't really go there, can I? My, uh, superiors would prefer it if we could just have an informal meeting. It's more of a chat really. When are you free?"

"I see.. I have a lot of events lined up this week. Will this take long?"

"No, just a few minutes of your time.."

"Very well then. I was going to have breakfast, I suppose you can join me."

 **Smallville**

The cheesecake was half eaten and the lemonade pitcher was about 1/4 full. Clark listened patiently as his adoptive father explained to him his illness. Martha was quietly sipping on her lemonade, but her face was very pale.

"..So you see, even with the medication, my chances aren't looking too great anyway. Pretty soon, I'll have to get a nurse. Not long after that, I'll have to be transferred to a hospital. Eventually, I'll be hooked up to a machine just to survive. And that's the best case scenario."

Clark swallowed dryly. "And the worst case scenario?"

Jonathan glanced briefly at Martha and then at Clark. He sighed before answering. "I could give you a long winded answer filled with all this medical jargon, but I'll just be straight with you two. Simply put, I could go at any time."

Clark just stared blankly at the table.  
No surprises there. Jonathan's heart beat sounded extremely irregular to Clark's ears. Nothing like the slow,steady beat he had when he was younger. He looked at him now.  
Jonathan looked as healthy as always. He had some steely silver hair at the sides of his head, but the rest of it was still black. His face had a few wrinkles, most of them laugh lines. His rough hands and thick forearms were still capable of hauling massive bales of hay. How could someone who looked so strong, so healthy,be so sick? So weak inside?

When Clark was a little boy, before his powers had manifested, he would often marvel at his fathers physical toughness. He couldn't remember a time when the man ever got sick. Back then, he thought Jonathan Kent would live forever.  
Jonathan who could push their ancient Chevy truck all by himself.  
Jonathan who could uncap a bottle of Budweiser with his teeth.  
Jonathan who once fell off the roof while fixing shingles, broke his collarbone and walked all the way to the town hospital because Clark had borrowed the car. He was the living embodiment of Dad could keep him down.

"..Clark? Clark? Are you there son?" Jonathan was snapping his fingers in front of his face. "There he is. Wow, you sure can zone out. It's like you weren't even here. You should teach me how to do that. Might come in handy the next time your mother nags me."

"How can you joke at a time like this? You just told us you can die at anytime! Any! Time!" Martha was exasperated.

"Well, yeah, but its a worst case scenario honey. You were always a glass half full lady, weren't you?" Martha glared at him.  
"Look, humor, laughing at life, enjoying the good times while they're here, that's the only way I can make it through this. That's how we always made it through our problems. You've got to look on the bright side. Remember when Clark destroyed the barn with his heat vision, and our favorite stack of LPs got torched along with it? Remember what I said?"

Martha wiped a solitary tear from the corner of her eye with a small smile. "You said, 'we'll always have the memories.'"

"Exactly. Crying won't do anybody any good now. If my time here is limited, I want to make the most of it."

"All right dad, we understand. But no more heavy lifting. If I have to, I'll come down here every day and help you out with the work. Don't argue. I have mom on my side." Clark added with a grin.

"Great. Now I'm running late for work. I should get going. Remember, no heavy lifting dad." Clark embraced both his parents before flying out of the window.

 **Carnivore Restaurant**

"So this is where you want to eat huh?"

"Yes. I have heard their pork is spit roasted to perfection. I would like to try some."

"You want to have meat. For breakfast."

"Actually I want to have pork. There is a difference Colonel. What's the matter, are you a vegetarian?"

"Uh no. It's just, people usually have coffee and donuts, or milk and cereal, or oatmeal and raisins,eggs and bacon even.. But ok. This is ok too.. After you."

The maitre'd was experienced, in his mid 40's. Naturally he saw a lot of high profile customers, but a superhero/Princess and an Air Force war hero were unexpected.  
He kept his cool though, showing them to their tables with quiet efficiency. The other waiters were staring openly. He gave them their menu's and went to shoo the waiters away to serve other tables. He returned after a few minutes.

Amateurs, he thought as he left the waiters.  
"And what shall you have, sir and madam?", he asked as he took their menu's back.

"I will have the roast pork with apple sauce. For a drink I shall have your strongest bottle of wine."

It is a little early for wine, thought the maitre'd, but he merely blinked. "And you sir?"

"Uh, I'll just have the grilled steak with a side of salad. Hold the dressing."

"Very good. Your meals will arrive in the next 10 minutes." He went back to his post.

"So, Colonel, what is the purpose of this meeting?"

"There's no need for titles with me. Just call me Steve."

"Only if you call me Diana."

"I can't do that."

"Why?"

"Royals are.. royals. I'm just a soldier."

"Albeit a highly respected and ranked soldier."

"Even highly ranked and respected soldiers have to defer to someone."

"As do royals. Our power comes from the people."

"Ha. You would have made a fine hippy."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing. You win. I won't call you Princess."

"So, Steve, what is the purpose of this meeting?"

"Well, I have a pitch for you."

"A 'pitch'?"

"Think of it as me selling you an idea."

"Go on."

"You see Diana, the world is changing. Things are happening that no one thought would ever happen, outside of movies and comic books."

"I have a feeling I know where this is going Steve."

"Hear me out. The government, it is.. worried about.. people like you."

"People like me?" she asked sharply.

"Come on, don't get like that. You know what I mean. Meta humans. Specifically superheroes."

"What of us?"

"They're worried about your actions. Now most of you are doing good work, that's commendable. But last nights events are a perfect illustration of the 'dark side', if you will, of the meta human world."

"Meaning?"

"As much as metas like you may want to do good, there are always going to be bad apples in the bunch."

The maitre'd returned then, brought them their meals, and departed quietly.

They eyed their plates. "I thought this would be bigger. That explains why it took such a short time." Diana remarked.

"What were you expecting, the whole pig?" She didn't reply, already cutting into the food. "Oh my god, you were!" he exclaimed.

Diana swallowed. "The roast is delectable. This cook is truly blessed. Yes, I was expecting the whole pig."

"Yeah? That's how they do it back in the old country?"

"Yes. That and so much more. I don't mean to rush you Steve, but that's a very nice steak you're not eating."

Steve cut a small slice and took an experimental bite, savoring the juicy cut of beef. "Pretty good." he said.

"Now, what exactly is it you're proposing?"

"We- My employers, they want you to spearhead a team."

Diana stopped eating, putting down her fork and knife. "A team."

"Yes."

"And what would this 'team', be doing exactly?"

"Well, it would be a kind of meta human control group."

"I see. A government sanctioned, government funded, government LOYAL, group. I'm sorry Steve. I will not be a government stooge."

"Come on Diana. You're exaggerating. You of all people should understand the necessity of it."

"I'm not sure I understand you."

"You understand perfectly. You're a princess, but you're also a warrior. A politician"-she wrinkled her nose at the term, Steve smiled slightly-and a soldier."

"Go on." was all she said.

Steve sighed with relief inwardly. Reel her in slow, he coached himself.

"You've seen, firsthand, the negative effects of meta humans. Do you know how much money the government has spent on structural repairs, in Metropolis, last year alone? A billion dollars. Literally. One year only. Let that sink in." He cut into his steak and ate another forkful.

"So Superman costs a lot of money. A lot of things are expensive, in more ways than the monetary. People waste billions of metric tons of perfectly edible food. I don't see how a government sanctioned team could change that."

Her tone screamed,convince me.

Challenge accepted.

"This team would fix that problem by doing his job for him. You would have full government support and sanction, in exchange you get to do good. Kick ass, save lives, heal the world."

"Sounds good."

"Yeah?" He stopped eating.

"Too good. What's the catch?"

"Sorry?"

"The catch. Surely you are familiar with that term, you were raised here, no?"

"I know what you mean. There is no catch."

Diana laughed. Every head in the restaurant turned at the sound. Even Steve was momentarily drawn in by it.

"Oops. Sorry." She said,as though she did something wrong. "I just find that hard to believe. I may still be a.. a 'noob' in Man's World, but I am not so naive. If there is one thing I have learned from my few years here, it is that no one does anything for free. There is always a reason, hidden or otherwise."

"Ok, first of all, don't say things like noob. It sounds terrible coming out of your mouth. Stick to the perfect English you speak. Second, there is no catch."

She looked at him pointedly. "You are lying."

"All right. You get to kick ass, save lives and help people, the government gets to look good for once. You know how it is. Everyone loves to hate powerful people. Just look at yourself."  
Then, in a softer tone, "I saw the reports. It's sickening what they're doing. Slandering your good name."

She stopped eating. "Don't do that Steve. Just don't."

"Fine, I didn't think you were that dumb anyway."

"'That dumb'"?

"Ignore that.. Diana, it's not a bad deal. Things are only going to get worse for metas from here on out. Do you really want to spend the rest of your days running from the government? You might be able to handle the ass rags they call paparazzi, but the very forces that make this country work? Take it from a 'government stooge', they will take a giant shit on you. It is not fun."

"All right Steve. I've listened to what you have to say. I want you to know that all options are open to me and I will be considering your offer."

"That's all I wanted to hear." He said with a smile.

Business done, they proceeded to eat their meal in companionable silence, oblivious to the stares they attracted.

 **A/N: *From Ultimate X-Men #9. Colonel Wraith tells General Ross: "The world doesn't make sense the way it did in the old days, General. There's kids climbing walls in Forest Hills and mutants humbling presidents on live television". Loved that series. That quote reminds me of what the news anchor said in Watchmen about Dr. Manhattan(not the first quote, the second one,when he-the reporter that is-has gone a little crazy). It seemed very fitting somehow. Yeah, I borrowed from Marvel. Don't crucify me.**

 **Carnivore restaurant is a real place. If you're ever in Nairobi, Kenya, go there. Best meat you'll ever eat in your life. Legendary parties too. There's one in SA as well, or so I've heard.**

 **If you're a fan of The Good Wife, that last statement Diana gives Steve will sound familiar. Remember what Alicia did? Exactly. Is it weird that I watch The Good Wife? And does anyone read these notes?**

 **As always,**

 **Read and Review.  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**Gotham, Wayne Enterprises**

Bruce sat in his office,feet up on the desk, poring through an Acura catalog.  
Ever since the unfortunate incident with his prized super car, he had been on the market for a new one. The super car companies had heard of this of course. Few people in the world could afford their cars, and there were even fewer billionaires. So it was that he found himsel looking through a big stack of car catalogs from Acura, McLaren, Ferrari, Koenigsegg, Pagani, Mercedes, Noble, Lotus, Bugatti,Lamborghini and just about every company that made a dangerously fast and expensive car.

He tossed the catalog onto an ever growing pile on his left,which meant he wasn't impressed by their specifications. He eyed the phone on his desk, which was off the hook. He had been forced to leave it off the hook after the 11th call from a gossip magazine. He hoped he hadn't missed any important calls. Spinning his chair round he looked out at the city. Bruce had a thing for floor to ceiling windows, and from the street his office looked like a giant glass box sitting atop the Wayne Enterprises office. The sun hung bright in the sky, the rays splintering out between the buildings in the skyline.

From here it looked so normal. Like a post card photograph of any other big city in the country. No sign of the rot that lay therein. You wouldn't know that it was controlled by criminals, corrupt bureaucrats, dirty cops and protected by a lone vigilante. A lone vigilante that had a massive target on his back. That kind of thing tends to complicate work.

Of course this was going to happen. Did you really think it was going to stop with the GCPD? Your efforts, futile as they may be, are hurting the criminals.  
They're losing money. They're bleeding.. And like wounded animals, they're lashing out. But I am a hunter. Hunters strike first, before they can be hurt. The families will put out another contract. This will never end. I'll just have to stay a step ahead.  
Make that 10 steps ahead.

The office door opened. His assistant/occasional advisor Susan walked into the room. She had been working at Wayne Enterprises since he was a little boy, and had watched him grow up. When he returned from his 'travels abroad', one of the first things he did was promote her and quadruple her salary. She was one of the few people at the company whom he trusted implicitly. She was experienced, intelligent and level-headed. He swivelled his chair round. "Yes?" he asked.

"Uh.. Bruce, there's a Mr James Gordon here to see you."

Interesting.

"Who?"

"A detective James Gordon?"

"A cop? What does he want?"

"I don't know. He won't say. He was asking around the whole building for you. I would have called to warn you but..." She motioned to the phone on his desk.

"Tell him I left already."

"Bruce, your car is still parked in the street. I think he knows you're here." She hesitated. "Young man,are you in trouble? Should I start looking for another job?"

"No. I'm sure it's nothing serious. Unless its about the insider trading." Her eyes widened. "Joking, joking.." He added with a grin. "All right then, send him in."

"You better not be in trouble Bruce. If you are, you'll be drinking stale coffee and eating dry donuts for months." she said before she left. That wiped the smile off his face.

Bruce straightened his tie unconsciously. He put his hands flat on the table. Then in his lap. Then back on the table.

Relax for god's sake. He knows nothing. No need to fear. He let his hands fall on the arm rests of the chair.

The door opened and the detective walked in. He looked a little haggard. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hair looked a little tousled. There was a bruise forming on his cheek and one lens on his glasses was cracked. His shirt was torn at the hem and his trousers and shoes were caked with dirt. Even his usually perfect handlebar mustache was a little iffy. Bruce took this all in with a cursory glance.

He stood up as Gordon approached the table. Or more accurately, staggered and nearly fell as he approached the table.

"Whoa there. Looks like you've had a rough day detective." Bruce remarked with real concern as he helped Gordon into a seat.

"I have. Gotham will do that to you." He replied.

"Mind if I ask what happened to you?"

Gordon waved it away. "I'm sure you'll see it on the evening news. Anyway, this isn't about me."

"Naturally. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Gordon smiled and tipped his head a little. "Most people wouldn't consider a Gotham cop dropping in on them as a pleasure."

"I like to help in any way I can."

Gordons eyes darted around the room, noting the numerous vehicle catalogs. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"No. I don't really do much around here anyway. I just get this fancy office because my name is on the building."

"Car shopping?" Gordon asked as he picked up a Ferrari catalog.

Classic black-ops interrogation technique. Make your mark sweat, don't let them know your purpose. Eventually they'll start to ask questions. Slip up. And that proves their culpability. You're in the wrong line of work Gordon. A guy with your skill set should be in the FBI, minimum.

"Yeah. My old car is.. indisposed."

"Shame. It was a sweet ride. Many a time we clocked you going well over the recommended speed limit." He gave Bruce a look.  
Bruce simply shrugged.

"I saw the one in the parking lot. The cherry red Ferrari 458? Very nice." Gordon remarked.

"Thanks. But the Veneno will always be my favorite."

"Anyway, I'm here to ask you some questions about the gala that took place at your hotel. Standard stuff." He said as he put down the catalog.

"Oh?" Maybe he was just making small talk. Stop being so paranoid.

"Yes." He pulled out his notepad. "Now, you were at the Blue Marlin Hotel 3 nights ago, correct?"

"Yes. At the gala."

Gordon nodded. "There was an attack. A mercenary by the name of"-he flipped a page-"Deathstroke the Terminator"-

"Like the movie?" Bruce interjected.

"Yeah, like the movie. Although this Terminator is in the business of killing people, not machines."

"Really?" Bruce asked incredulously.

"Yes." Gordon said, slightly irritated.

"So he was there to, what, kill someone?"

"I'll be asking the questions Mr Wayne."

"Of course. Of course. How rude of me. Ask away."

"According to witness statements from several different people, you attacked this Deathstroke character. You managed to hold him off long enough for Superman to get there and finish off the job."

Bruce simply nodded.

"Thats a very heroic thing you did Mr Wayne. You saved a lot of lives. This man had quite the rep sheet. He was responsible for the assassination of several high profile targets. Ever heard of Alexander Litvinenko? Apparently he was behind it."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I notice you keep referring to him in the past tense."

Gordon sighed wearily. He seemed to sag in his chair. "Look, I'm really not supposed to tell you this but, as you'll find out about it in a few hours anyway, I don't see the harm. Deathstroke is dead. Can't tell you how, where or why. I'm just here to wrap up the investigation, so if we could just finish up here. I have a few questions, that's all."

What a relief, he thought. "By all means, proceed."

The detective flipped through some pages.

 **St. Maria Hospital**

The entire hospital had been on full alert for several hours. Everything was normal in the lower floors. Doctors checked on their patients or sat in the lounge. Nurses made their rounds. Masses of people sat in the waiting room. Those waiting on news clearly distinguished by their panic stricken expressions. A little boy ambled up to a trash can and vomited violently inside it. Business as usual.

The upper floors were another story. There was heavy police activity. Yellow tape cordoned off several areas. Paramedics moved up and down with stretchers bearing wounded people. In most cases the stretchers carried body bags. The walls were covered in blood in some places, in some places they had only droplets, in others there were complex spatters. The walls were so bullet riddled they looked like swiss cheese.

"Damn. This is what they call a clusterfuck." said one officer.

"Yep. You should have seen what it looked like before they cleaned out the bodies and all the blood."

The officer looked around."They cleared the scene?"

"Of course. No need for investigation. We know who did it. There's CCTV footage. What does it matter anyway? The guys dead."

"Not my point. You mean the place looked worse than this?"

"Yep. It was like Egypt."

"What?"

"Y'know, river of blood?"

"I was raised atheist."

"Oh."

"I heard the video is some scary stuff."

"Yeah. It's kinda like watching Paranormal Activity. Except there is way more violence and you know it's real."

"Heard he got Jensen." said another officer as she walked up to them.

"Oh man. Really?"

"Yep. Flattened him with a vending machine. Poor guy was just a rookie. Got Ealy and Cole too. Snapped Ealy's neck like it was a toothpick. Shattered Cole's skull with a fire extinguisher. Alvarez is in the ICU. Broke damn near every bone in her body. Her spine is fractured. He had her in a bear hug. She's the only survivor."

"I heard Gordon survived too."

"Who?"

"You know. Glasses, mustache, red brown hair. Ex- Special Forces guy?"

"Nope. Don't know him."

"He's not on the take. Guy that hospitalized Flass."

"I heard that was a rumor."

"It happened man."

"Oh, that guy? Smokes, right?"

"Yup. That's him."

"Damn. Are those all the casualties?"

"Not even close. Those are just the guys he killed when he ran out of ammo. This guy was the MacGuyver of murder. Killed 15 of ours with scalpels, a wheelchair,de-fibrillators.."

"Damn."

"I hear things only got worse when he got his hands on surgical instruments."said one officer. "Heard he decapitated 3 guys with one stroke."

"Killed 12 on the top floor with a pistol. Headshots,right between the eyes, every single one. Killed about 52 cops before they vaporized his ass. Pumped him so full of lead you could use him as a lightning rod. Scary thing is, he wasn't dead. Not yet." The female officer added.

"Damn. Why the hell were there so many of our guys around anyway?"

"Capn's orders. Beef up security. Apparently the guy woke up from a coma overnight. They were worried he might try to escape."

"Jesus F christ. He did all this after waking up from a coma? What is this, Kill Bill?"

"Dunno man. It's crazy."

"How many shots did it take to kill him?"

"Hell if I know. All of them. You ever seen The Godfather?"

"Yeah."

"Remember that scene where Sonny gets killed?"

"Yeah."

"Picture that. Now multiply it by 10."she held up both hands.

"Damn."

A burly firefighter walked past them carrying a huge power saw.

"What the hell is that for?"

"He.. harpooned some of our guys. They're stuck in the walls."

"So he's cutting the bodies?"

"Nope. They got the bodies down. The guy used bedframes as makeshift spears. They're stuck so deep in the walls no one can pull them out, so they have to cut them in half."

"God damn. Who the hell was this guy?"

"I have no idea. Heard some of the guys say he was a terminator."

"What, like the movie?"

"Uh huh."

A paramedic moved past them, wheeling on his gurney the body of a young nurse with two large syringes sticking out of her eye sockets.

"Have some respect for god's sake. Use a body bag."

"We're out of body bags." came the reply.

"Damn."

"This is definitely what they call a clusterfuck." The officer said.

Morgue The paramedic, Jared, wheeled the body down into the morgue. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"Damn Rosie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He sobbed as he draped a sheet over her body. He looked at the bodies that filled the room from wall to wall. He walked slowly over to the corpse of the man responsible. He didn't look as bad as the cops said he did. He looked pretty terrible. One eye missing. Battered and bruised, his long blonde hair crusty with dried blood and dirt. He looked pretty shitty,but he didn't look like someone who had 'died like Sonny did times 10'. Another tear rolled down Jared's cheek.

"Rosie was a civilian. I don't understand why you had to kill her." More tears rolled down his face. He spat into the empty eye socket. "Fuck you asshole!"

Quite suddenly a hand clamped around Jared's throat, crushing it in its vice-like grip.

He tried in vain to get away, but the hand just stayed there. Bright spots danced before his eyes. He looked down to see the one eyed man looking at him.

"You're...kkkfthhh...dead... kkk...impossible.."

In response the grip tightened. Jared tried everything. Punching, kicking, scratching. It had no effect.

"GGGGKKKRFSHHH..GHSKSRSHHH..GHHhhhrkshh...kkkk..."

His limp body fell to the floor.

The pain was nearly unbearable. But he had to move. Now. While the adrenaline was pumping. Someone would be coming back soon. He hobbled over to the nurse, Rosie's corpse. There was still the faint smell of lavender and alcohol rub on her body.

"Sorry Rosie. Wrong place wrong time." he whispered. He pulled out the syringes from her eyes and jabbed one into his arm, depressing the needle only a little bit. After a few seconds the pain began to slowly abate. He hobbled back to Jared's body and stripped him as quickly as he could. He stuffed the syringes into his pockets. The clothes were on the small side,the shoes pinched his feet terribly. But they would have to do. He placed Jared's body on the gurney and covered it with a sheet.

He was starting to feel much better. But he had to get these bullets out of him. Not only did they hurt like hell, but they were a liability. Infection, or worse, lead poisoning, would occupy his healing factor too much. He knew a guy, not too far from here. He wouldn't ask any questions.

Slade broke the steel door at the back of the morgue, wincing at the stiffness in his legs and the bullets scraping against each other in his flesh. He stepped outside into the cold morning air.

 **A/N: Slade will be back. When? I don't know. I want him to be a long-run villain. Showing up every now and then. Don't hold your breath waiting for him.**  
 **Brief note on his character. I've always liked Slade best when he has some sort of moral code, but when that moral code is flexible e.g killing a nurse that was really nice to him to save his own ass.**

 **If you haven't watched the scene in The Godfather where Sonny dies, I suggest you do so ASAP. In fact, drop everything now and go watch all 3 films.**

 **On a random note, Saint Maria Auxilatrix is the patron saint of assassins.**

 **I don't know when I'm going to write again. I'm physically exhausted, so I hope the chapters I've been pumping out these past few days will tide you over for some time. I'll probably be back real soon though. I do need to revise too. Get F's instead of U's. Until next time.**

 **As always, read and review.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: This may be a controversial decision, but I decided to adapt the Nolanverse aspect where Lucius Fox knows Bruce is Batman. I must confess I haven't picked up a Batman comic since the 52 series, so if there is already something like this in the current continuity, then go ahead and ignore this note. If not,or if you're just interested for whatever reason, read the extended version at the bottom of the page for a detailed explanation of why I did this.**

 **Just outside Metropolis**

Clark crashed through the trunk of the thick tree with a sound like thunder. The tree groaned loudly before collapsing on top of him with an earth shaking boom that was heard several miles away.

The debris clattered to the ground and dust swirled around him as he pushed the broken trunk off of him with one hand, getting up slowly.

"So much for diplomacy." At least he had got the fight out of the city. Less collateral damage.

In the distance he could see the android flying towards him at great speed.

It flies too. Okay.

He held onto the trunk, waiting for the android to come closer. When it was a few feet away and contact was imminent he swung the heavy tree like it was a fly swatter-albeit a giant fly swatter-smacking the android aside as though it was a bug. The thick trunk splintered from the impact. The android spun wildly in the air.

Obviously not very intelligent. Fast though, he noted as it adjusted itself right back on its flight path.  
He levitated slowly, his eyes glowing red.

"Look, I don't know what you want-"

KRAK.

Clark was pushed 10 feet back by the force of the blow. He clutched his jaw.

Enough talk.

He fired his heat vision in a wide arc, using just enough power to melt the android. It was a pile of jelly after a few seconds.

Well, that was easy. I should have just done that to start with.

He walked up to the mass of molten metal.

Metropolis, at the abandoned sewage treatment plant The room was deathly silent.

Lex stared at the screen, which was nothing but white noise now. Professor Ivo leaned back in his seat with a smug expression on his face. There was a bowl of pop corn in his lap.

"As I said Mr Luthor. It's not ready yet. It's strong, yes. It can fly too. But those features aren't enough. Superman's.. peripheral abilities are the wild card. The test run wasn't a complete failure though. We know a little bit more about him. He clearly has enhanced senses, he knew the android was coming. He intercepted it in the sky quite literally from miles away. We know he's almost indestructible-"

"We already knew that. He's bullet proof for god's sake. Stood up against everything from rifle fire and RPG's to anti-aircraft AND anti-tank missiles."

"Being bulletproof doesn't make him indestructibile. Even a bulletproof vest can be destroyed. As I was saying, we know his heat vision is capable of reaching temperatures high enough to melt even Promethium. That's valuable information, considering it was developed to contain him,and we thought it was indestructible. We'll have to find something stronger, alloy it to the Promethium. Luckily I know just the thing. A fascinating material, I believe it's from outside of this planet. They're calling it Nth metal."

"Nth metal? Where is it from?"

Ivo shrugged. "I haven't the slightest idea. Morrow came up with the name. He brought it with him when we poached him from S.T.A.R Labs. Lord knows how they get their hands on all that alien hardware."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that."

"Look Mr Luthor, I know you want to take down Superman the good old fashioned way, with earth technology. David slaying Goliath with a simple sling and a stone. The thing is even our most advanced equipment is woefully inadequate for the job. If you're really serious about ending his 'reign of terror', you should stop being so narrow minded. We have to fight fire with fire."

"All right Morrow. I'll give you another month."

"Very good, sir." He placed emphasis on the last word, mocking him.

Goddamn hobbit, Lex thought as he left the room. I want to beat his brains in with a big stick. I want to do it so bad... But I need him. He's almost as smart as I am, and I'm one of the smartest men on earth.

If not the smartest.

 **Gotham, Wayne Enterprises**

"Slow down Lucius. What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm saying we've been compromised. Robbed. Someone sold us out Mr Wayne."

"Ok. Stop pacing, have a seat, calm down."

The elder man stopped, sat down in the seat and fidgeted with his wristwatch. Then he took a deep breath and let it out.

"All right. Now, explain it to me."

"It's about Waynetech. You know, the.. special branch. The one that allows you to carry out your uh, 'extreme sports' activities."

"It's all right Lucius. We're safe here, you can speak freely."

"Some things have been stolen from your personal armory."

Bruce was silent for a few moments.

"What things?"

"The AI interface we had developed for the Batmobile. It's unclear how many units were stolen."

"I wish you'd stop calling it that. It sounds ridiculous."

Lucius allowed himself a brief smile. "It's nothing major,I've got it all set up so it will never come back to us. As it is the grease monkeys think were developing it for the automotive industry. But it could cause us problems in the future."

"Because someone sold them." Bruce said, nodding with understanding.

"Exactly. Corporate fraud. That kind of thing is dangerous for Waynetech. Whoever is doing this could sell other company secrets. That would be disastrous even if you weren't.. that guy."

"Really? 'That guy'? You can say Batmobile but you refer to him as 'that guy'?"

Lucius smiled again. "One can never be too safe Mr Wayne. You told me those words yourself." The elder man stood up, buttoning his coat. "I trust you'll take care of it?"

"Naturally. Always a pleasure Lucius."

"Likewise Mr Wayne. Have a good day now."

They shook hands before he departed.

Bruce sat on the edge of his desk, pondering his next move.

Who would sell those plans? It would be very hard to find the culprit. Very hard. There were quite literally millions of employees working at Wayne Industries, spread out among the parent companies subsidiaries. It was the proverbial needle in a haystack.

But it's my company. My responsibility. And I'm a detective.

He may not know who did it, but he was pretty sure he knew who bought it.

 **Just outside Metropolis**

Clark held a piece of charred metal in his hands. It wasn't that big, no larger than a credit card, no thicker than his finger. He wiped the black ash from its surface. There were words etched into it.

MODEL NO. 375465, BATCH NO.7 ID NO. 3230900452 PROPERTY OF WAYNETECH, SUBSIDIARY OF WAYNE INDUSTRIES

"It was only a wall..." Clark mumbled.

 **A/N: I'm not quite sure how they comicsplain Bruce's heavy duty hardware. Usually they have these panels showing Bruce tinkering with his cowl or belt, or welding huge bits of metal together. It's the same thing in animated films/series. We know he gets it from Waynetech, but there is a huge gap between the 'he's going to get something' and the 'ok he's got it'. Picture this. The engine specs for a very advanced plane go missing mysteriously and some time later Batman has a fancy Batplane. No one puts it together? The employees of Waynetech are idiots if that's the case. Hell,there was even a time Waynetech got in trouble over some corporate issues, which came about because of Bruce's shady methods of getting tech for his use as Batman.**

 **I just don't see how he can do it all by himself. By 'all' I mean maintain his extensive collection of equipment. Think about it, Bruce has a lot of toys, most of it is military grade at the very least. His utility belt alone is a marvel,as is his suit. Over the years his belt has done everything from self-destructing to acting as a GPS/Communicator to (almost) rocket propelling Darkseid into a boom tube. His suit has evolved from simple cloth to body armor with numerous electronic systems and its own security system. Not to mention his other gadgets('special' batarangs,grapple guns,various gizmos,just to name a few), his computer(obviously its way more advanced than a Mac), the Batmobile, and so much more that I can't list here. I think as his arsenal grows, DC will have to consider bringing in some kind of weaponsmith/tech geek for Batman. Oracle already fulfills part of that when it comes to computers, but if he keeps getting more stuff, Bruce will need a Hephaestus. Kind of like what Marvel did with the Punisher and Micro.**

 **Sure he's smart enough to 'borrow' some stuff from Waynetech here and there whenever he needs something,say a tender for 5,000 pairs of gloves, without leaving any footprints. But who does all the bureaucratic,dotted line, pen and paper, number crunching stuff to hide it? Bruce? I doubt it. Can you imagine how long it would take him to do that for everything he currently owns? And while he could build himself some badass gear using his vast resources,he's not Tony Stark. He can't blatantly take stuff from his company and use it to build state of the art machinery. Someone will notice. I just don't see how he does it ALL by himself. You think he's going to sit on his ass for months, years even, working on everything by himself because "The Batman works alone."? Hell no. He'll look for a trustworthy person to do all that shit for him.**

 **I know the whole lone wolf thing is a huge part of Batman's appeal, but it's just not that realistic anymore, hence the formation of the ever growing Bat Family. I also know how ridiculous it is to talk about realism in a world where a slouch,eye glasses and a self deprecating manner is enough to hide movie star good looks and the body of a Golden Age era bodybuilder. But that's a story for another day.**

 **Literally.**

 **As always, read and review.**


	16. Chapter 16

**12.15PM, Washington D.C.**

"What is this?"

"It's called a vending machine."

"What does it do?"

"It dispenses food."

"Incredible. It actually dispenses entire meals? Why don't they have these in areas where people suffer from starvation?"

Steve laughed then. "It doesn't dispense meals. Just small snacks. Y'know, M&M's, Dorito's. That kind of stuff."

She looked at him blankly.

He sighed. There was still so much she had to learn. He wondered if she would ever get it all. "It's not really healthy either. If they put these out in some arid part of the world the people would die from lifestyle diseases. If vitamin and mineral deficiencies don't kill them first."

"Oh. I see." Diana said a little dejectedly.

"Anyway, I'm glad your here. You can meet the team." He said in an effort to brighten her up.

"Steve, I told you I was going to think about it. I didn't say I was going to join this team."

"I know, I know. But it won't hurt to meet them, will it? You can't come all this way and then leave without even saying hello."

"I.. No, I suppose I can do that much at least."

"Great." He said, smiling broadly. I just hope they're behaving themselves today, he thought as he pushed open the door, leading them into a room. It was an observation deck, not unlike the VIP box at football games. From here one could see what went on below.

Diana was slightly taken aback by what she saw.

It was a large room, perhaps the size of a football pitch. There were various structures set up in strategic places that looked like obstacles to Diana's practiced eye.  
There were mines, pits of lava, holes that spewed jets of fire, giant robots, gun turrets mounted on the floor and along the walls.  
It looked like the hardest level of every video game ever mashed together in one room. There was so much going on it was all a little confusing. She could hear every sound through the speakers in the walls.

As she looked closer she noticed there were figures moving about in the room. One looked like he was made of silver, blasting colorful bolts of energy from his fists. Alongside him flew another man dressed in a green and black bodysuit, who also fired bolts of energy from his fist,but his bolts were green and morphed into various objects, some of which were archaic weapons Diana recognized.

Flying slightly above them was an angel. At least, that's what he looked like, with massive wings jutting out of his back. He wore nothing save a pair of dark green pants and he wielded a large bronze battleaxe in his hands with devastating efficiency, slicing through entire ranks of robots with an ease and brutality that bordered on frightening.

On the ground were two women, one was dressed in a skintight black jumpsuit with armor padding on the shoulders,elbows and knees. There were guns strapped to her sides, as well as a few knives. Her blonde hair was tied into a ponytail behind her as she maneuvered her way gracefully through the complex network of traps,shooting from two pistols seemingly non-stop, pausing only to reload.

There was another woman not too far behind her,she wielded a sword with a thin,sharp blade. She wore a white domino mask with a red spot in it's center, and a black jumpsuit similar to the blonde. She moved swiftly and with great skill, her blade a blur of steel as it cut through just about everything in it's path. After watching her for a while Diana was fairly sure she had no powers.

The lady with the blade was backed up by another, also dressed in a black jumpsuit( it seemed to be a theme here) except hers was made of a finer material and ran all the way up to her head, leaving only her face exposed. She wore red goggles and carried a long whip, which she used to swing between levels and rip through obstacles. At one point she lassoed a gun turret and spun it round with a sudden wrench of effort so it would fire into an army of giant robots headed her way. As far as she could tell, the women seemed to have no special abilities other than their individual skills and fighting styles.

Steve watched Diana's face keenly for any reaction, but she was giving him nothing. Her face was as expressionless as ever.  
When her eyes widened slightly he looked at the battlefield. The team had cleared the course. She's impressed, he thought. Then he noticed the giant robot arm that was falling, right above the men's heads. It was destroyed at the very last minute by a sonic scream.

At first Diana thought the blonde haired woman had no special powers because she was using firearms, but she quickly dismissed that notion when the woman let loose a powerful scream that disintegrated the falling robot arm.

"I had that." said one of the men, the one in the black and green jumpsuit.

"You're welcome." the blonde said sarcastically.

Uh oh, thought Steve. He had seen this before. It would end in a fight, he was certain of it.

He pushed down on a black button on the wall. "Ahem. People, we have a visitor. Play nice."  
They all looked up at the source of the sound.

Diana said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow.

"They're pretty good right?" he asked hopefully.

"They are." She said simply.

"Each member of the team brings their own skill,strength and flair to the team. Everyone here is for all intents and purposes the best at what they do. Unfortunately, that means there are a lot of inflated egos here. Most of them aren't used to working on teams. But enough of that. Let's go talk to them."

They went into an elevator and Steve pushed a button that said Danger Room. The elevator descended silently into the depths of the building, stopping after a few seconds. The doors opened and they walked into the room. Instantly Diana's nose was assailed by the smells of gunpowder and hot metal.

"Wow. Dibs." she heard the man in black and green say. He flew towards her. As he landed she noticed there was a green aura around him, and he wore a single green ring on the middle finger of his right hand. There was a white circle on his chest with a green sigil stamped on it. He had short brown hair, and he wore on his face a green domino mask that hid just enough of his features to conceal his identity. His jumpsuit fit his lean muscular build so snugly it looked like it was painted on. He strode up to her,hand outstretched, a boyish grin on his face.

"Green Lantern. Wielder of the most powerful weapon in the universe. Don't let the ring fool you though, I'm single."

Diana smiled and grasped his hand firmly. He winced slightly but tried not to show how much pain he was in.

"Diana of Themyscira. Princess of the Amazons. I may not have a ring on my finger, but that does not make me a slab of meat for you to call dibs on. Understand?" she asked as she applied more pressure on his hand.

He gasped in pain, but he managed to wheeze out a shaky "Yes." Behind her, Steve smiled. Maybe you do know more about us than I think you do.

The others flew ( or walked) towards her.

"Captain Atom. US Air Force. It's an honor your majesty." said the silver man as he shook her hand. He had a strong enough grip that Diana actually felt his handshake. "Kiss ass." Green Lantern coughed into his fist. Up close he was even more striking. He was tall. His eyes looked featureless from afar but as he got closer she realised there was white hot energy swirling around inside them,with two even brighter white spots that were clearly his pupils. Physically he looked like a metal sculpture, even his neatly cut hair was metallic in appearance. There was a splash of red on his chest, the only color on him.

The blonde woman came next. "Dinah Lance. I, uh, don't have a superhero name yet." she said as she extended a gloved hand. She seemed a little nervous, her blue eyes never quite meeting Diana's,focusing on her tiara instead. Diana smiled to reassure her.

"Catwoman." Was all the lady in the full black bodysuit said, hitching up her red goggles to reveal a pair of green eyes. A few wisps of black hair peeked out from the leather around her face, falling over her eyebrows framing her cheeks. "A fitting name." Diana said as she looked at the whip coiled around her waist and the tiny ears on top of the woman's head.

The woman wearing the domino mask simply shook Diana's hand. Her eyes were covered by white lenses. The skin of her face and what was visible of her chest was also white. Diana wasn't sure if it was make-up or her natural physical appearance,and she sensed it would be impolite to ask. People on Man's World didn't take too kindly to such lines of questioning. Just another difference between her old life and her new one.  
"You'll have to excuse Katana. She doesn't speak. A vow of silence. She takes it very, very seriously." Steve said.

She noticed that there were slight differences between Katana's bodysuit and Dinah's. Dinah's suit seemed thicker, made of tougher had holsters running across her torso and around her waist and left thigh, with a blue stripe running down the length of her body from underneath her armpit to her knee, which was encased in a grey pair of boots. Her shoulder,elbow and knee pads were also grey. Dinah also carried a large hunting knife at her waist and a few smaller knives around a strap on her thigh.  
Katana's bodysuit was lighter, the armor focused around her torso and thighs. She wore red boots, and there was a large pad covering her right shoulder and most of her forearm. She wore a single red glove, on her right hand. Her left hand had a thick black gauntlet. She carried no other weapons save for the long blade sheathed at her back.

Last but certainly not least was the winged man. He had been standing in the background, a little aloof. He wore a winged bronze helmet and an x-shaped harness across his chest with a medallion depicting black bird against a red background. His left arm and shoulder had thick,spiky bronze armor plating. The boots on his feet were made of the same material. His right arm, which grasped his battleaxe tightly, was wrapped with white strapping, not unlike those worn by boxers. He was very muscular and had sparse hairs on his chest.

"Hawkman." He said stiffly. The massive wings on his back were folded, but they still jutted out far above his head. He had a strange accent, quite different from all the others. She guessed he was a foreigner, like her.

"So, uh, don't you guys have to hit the showers or something?"

"Actually I have to go, the Guardians summoned me like an hour ago. Trust me they do NOT like to be kept waiting." said Green Lantern.

"Yeah, and I have to report back to base for debriefing. You know how it is Steve." Captain Atom added.

"Don't look at us. We never really go anywhere. We're practically prisoners here." said Catwoman.

"I am no one's prisoner." said Hawkman with authority,his forearm flexing as his grip tightened on the handle of his axe.

"Whatever Birdman. You just try and leave this place for the outside world and see what happens to you. You don't want to end up like-"

"Ok! I guess everyone will just go off to wherever they're supposed to go. No, not you Selina. You stay." The others shuffled off, Green Lantern and Captain Atom flying off together, Hawkman going off somewhere by himself, Katana and Dinah pairing off together.

"Thanks for blowing my cover soldier boy. What's the point of a codename anyway?" said Catwoman.

"Diana can be trusted." Steve said simply.

Catwoman looked at her skeptically from head to toe. "Whatever you say boss man." She turned on her heel and started walking away.

"Selina, wait."

"uuuuuuhhhh. What is it now, Stevie Wonder?"

"If you sneak out again, go off on those little 'adventures' of yours, I will have you on the first ride back to Belle Reve. Is that clear?"

Selina paled. "Yes sir." she said meekly.

"Dismissed." He said.

"What was all that about? And what is this Bell-Rave?" Diana asked after the other woman had left.

"Nothing. These folks can get pretty.. difficult at times. Every now and then you have to remind them who's boss. What? Don't give me that look. You know how it is, you're a soldier. Sometimes you've got to, y'know, give your troops a little incentive." He said with a lopsided smile.

"I agree. But never through fear. If you teach your charges to fear you, they will do things because they area afraid of the consequences, not because it is the right thing to do."

"Oh, they should fear the consequences. They should fear them so much they're willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done. It's good for them. It inspires them."

"They should be inspired. By you. They should respect you, trust you with their lives. Then when the time comes, they will be more than willing to march through hell for you."

"Yeah, but.." Steve began, before stopping himself with a small chuckle. "This is why we need you." He said, smiling.

"And I told you, I am going to consider it. But first, who is this 'we'? And what is this Bell-Rave?"

"You never let things drop, do you?" he said, half-joking, half-serious. She gave him a look.

"Ok, I'll start with the easy one. Belle Reve"-he pronounced it slowly-"is an... institution of sorts."

"What kind of institution?"

"A.. A.. correctional facility."

"A prison? You staff your team with ex-convicts?" Diana asked incredulously.

"Technically, she's not an ex-convict." Steve mumbled.  
Diana's facial expression seemed to say, "WTF?"

"Look Diana, it's complicated-"

"Isn't it always?" Diana asked.

"Look, lets have lunch. I'll explain everything to you then." Diana didn't look like she was going to budge. Steve sighed.

"Ok, Selina is,technically, legally, for all intents and purposes, currently an inmate at Belle Reve Penitentiary. It's a special prison,built to contain meta-human criminals."

"But she isn't a metahuman."

"No, but she proved too.. difficult for regular holding facilities."

"Really? Whatever did she do to get locked up in a prison with metahuman criminals?"

"She stole." Diana nodded, expecting more.

"That's all?"

"Not quite. She's got a light touch. A very, very, very light touch. She could steal your dress off of you without you noticing.  
Started off small. Petty crimes, stuff like pick-pocketing. Graduated to bigger things. She stole her first car at 12 years old. She moved onto bigger things as she got older and smarter.  
Ever heard of 'The Scream', by Edvard Munch? It's a painting, very expensive. She stole it back in 2004. A year later, she stole Dorothy's red slippers. Y'know, the girl from the Wizard of Oz. Anyway, they're worth about $2 million. Funny thing is, she never sold the stuff she stole. Not the valuable ones anyway. She just kept them, like a hoarder. There's a lot more she stole, but that would take too long to list. So yeah, she is a world class thief, no exaggeration."

"So you keep her around because she's a good at stealing things?"

Yes and no.  
Yes because you never know when you might have to pull a covert job.  
No because she's got other skills.  
She's also a good enough natural acrobat to keep up with an Olympic gymnast, and she's no slouch when it comes to throwing a punch or using that whip of hers. She was incarcerated in a maximum security prison when she was just 17. 17. Let that sink in. A 17 year old girl in a maximum security prison, with men. Not a juvenile home, a maximum security state penitentiary. With male inmates. Rapists, murderers, the worst kinds of criminals. And they still couldn't take her."

"Why wasn't she in a juvenile facility? Or a women's prison at the very least?"

Steve laughed. "She hospitalized a couple guards and more than a few inmates. Apparently Krav Maga and Muy Thai were quite famous in her neighborhood. In addition she , and broke out of juvy so many times they just gave up. Short of killing her, there was little they could do, so they had her transferred. Locked her up with the men, they hoped the animals in there could handle her. They were horribly wrong. She lasted about a week before the warden asked for her to be transferred. I read the reports. She's not a psycho or anything, but she just.. has a knack for violence, the likes of which I have rarely ever seen in-"

"A woman?" Diana asked pointedly.

"Someone so young." Steve finished.

"So what did she do?"

Steve's face darkened. "I-I can't say. It's quite personal, you'd have to ask her yourself. Suffice it to say they had her transferred to Belle Reve, which is a prison for metahumans and other 'special' people. Now she's here. Works for the government in exchange for a reduction of her sentence."

"I see."

"Yes, you do. They're not saints Diana, but they're not horrible people either. Don't be so quick to judge them. I know you think I'm just a well paid stooge, and that's true, but that's not why I'm doing this. I truly want to help these guys, get them accepted by society, and help them do something with their abilities. If a superhero team financed by the government will achieve that, then that's what I'll go for." He said passionately. When he was done he looked a little embarrassed at having said all that.

"Oh, Steve." Diana said, wiping a mock tear from her eye. Steve laughed.

"Was that sarcasm? Look at that! Princess Diana, you will fit in just great here."

"I will just assume you meant Man's World when you said 'here', Colonel Trevor." Diana said with a smile.

"So, lunch?"

"All right. I want to know more about this team, the members of it. Lunch it is."

"What would you like to eat?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any cheese cake, would you?"

 **A/N: Yeah, a whole lot of superheroes thrown into this one. I'll explain why a guy like Green Lantern is on a government team later on. I'm going to enjoy writing him the most.  
I've always liked Captain Atom,he's a very interesting character to me. He's like Captain America except he was gone for less time,had a family, and is way more powerful. And he's manipulated by the government. So not like Captain America but you get my point. Anyway I think he's a better counterpart for Superman than Martian Manhunter. I like MM but his range of abilities is ludicrous, and that fire weakness is just... really? I mean what is he, a Pokemon? **

**Hawkman is using the Nth metal armor that is 'bonded' to him. I think that this version of Hawkman was way more bad ass.** ** **For clarification purposes,** t** ** **hink of Nth metal as stronger than all other metals, including Promethium. However, it only gives *Hawkman* special abilities because, y'know, it 'chose' him.**  
For Dinah I decided to go with the New 52 Team 7 version. I'm a little tired of that 'middle aged Ollie Queen barely legal Dinah Lance' aspect. **

**Catwoman isn't from Gotham. I can hear the collective gasp all the way from here. I like the Bat-Cat dynamic but it feels like she's always around just because of Batman.  
I mean she was apparently 'inspired' by him, so without Batman there would be no Catwoman. I think that sucks, because she should be her own character. Writing her as an extension of Batman feels stifling. She is probably going to be one of the darkest characters on this team. **

**Katana? She doesn't talk much. She doesn't talk ever. That leaves so much room for creativity with her character.**

 **Anyway, read and review.**


	17. Chapter 17

**New York City, Waynetech Headquarters**  
The staff of Waynetech was noticeably nervous when word spread around the building that Bruce Wayne had landed for an impromptu visit. Rumors were flying, and like most workplaces, the water coolers were the office gossip hotspots.

"Why is he here? He never comes around."

"I heard it's some new project, military stuff. Something about an engine for a new aeronautics prototype. Lots of money involved."

"There's always lots of money involved when it comes to Bruce Wayne."

"But why is he here? Really? Shouldn't he be on some island somewhere taking nude selfies with Victoria's Secret models?"

"Relax Lester. The way you're going on about it someone might think you did something."

"Yeah? Like what Chavez?" Lester asked sharply.

"Nothing man, nothing. It's just a joke,eh? Just, take it easy man." Chavez said with his hands raised in surrender.

Lester stormed off, his co-workers watching his muscular form walking away from them."

"Jesus, that Lester guy is pretty intense eh?"

"Yeah. Must be all the 'roids."

"Roids?"

"Steroids. He takes 'em like sugar in his coffee. Can't you tell? He's built like a brick shithouse."

"Heard his wife left him. For his younger brother. He used to be a fat ass."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Heard he took it pretty hard, so just go easy on him."

"Ok."

 **Upstairs...**  
Bruce sat with Lucius in the latter's office. He thought himself a neat person,Zatanna sometimes described him as borderline obsessive. But if Bruce was borderline, Lucius had crossed that line a long time ago. His was office organized down to the last detail. Not a pen out of place on his desk, files arranged neatly in the shelves. A drawer with folders from as far back as 1985 arranged in order of alphabet,date and importance, in that order.

He was going through that drawer now. He raised a file, marked Lester Williamson.

"This one?" he asked.

"Yes, that's the one. Go on and have a look through it."

"You have actual hard files. In 2016. On your employees."

"I'm a whiz with computers Mr Wayne, but the classic way just works sometimes. I keep detailed files on all my staff. Started looking into his a while ago. I noticed he asked for salary advances several times. He'd been hard up lately so I thought I'd have him checked out."

Bruce leaned against the drawer and opened the file. Lucius cleared his throat. Bruce looked up.

"Have a seat Mr Wayne."

"I'm fine where I am actually."

"Chairs are for sitting in Mr Wayne. Do make use of them."

Definitely obsessive, he thought as he slid into a chair in the corner of the office, next to a metal wastepaper basket that looked like someone had gone over it with a can of Mr Muscle.

For the next few minutes they sat in silence as Bruce read the file. To an outside observer it looked like Bruce was merely skimming over the words, so quickly did his eyes move over the pages. After a little while he set the file down in his lap and closed it with an air of finality.

"Send him in." Was all he said.

 **Downstairs**

Lester had been sitting at his computer, stalking his ex-wife's latest boyfriend. He noted with some satisfaction that the man was much smaller in physical stature than he was. In fact, he didn't look like he lifted at all.

Satisfied, he opened his account and scrolled through his feed looking for any new discussions on the forum. He opened one that looked interesting. 'What supplements should I use when trying to cut fat?'  
It was as he was doing this that Susan from accounts informed him that Mr. Fox wanted to see him about the Fisher account. "Be right there." He said, minimizing his pages and locking his account.

He opted to use the stairs instead of the elevator, sprinting up the entire way. When he got to Lucius Fox office, he knocked gently. "Come in." came the muffled reply.

"You wanted to see me sir?" He asked in the voice he used when he spoke to his superiors. Which was often, lately.

"Yes. Come in Lester. Have a seat." Lester strode in and planted himself slowly in his seat. He was fairly mature, perhaps in his late 40's. He wore glasses. His brown hair had a few silver strands in it but it still had a good deal of color left. His shirt and trousers hugged his fit body snugly.

"How much did he pay you Lester?" came a voice from the corner of the room. He turned his head and saw that Bruce Wayne himself was seated in a chair at the corner of the office. He hadn't even noticed he was there.

"I'm sorry?" Lester asked with genuine puzzlement on his face.

"Ok, lets try a different approach. Did Lex Luthor pay you to sell him the prototypes for the AI interface?"

Lester hesitated for just a second, but it was enough for Bruce.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't know what you're talking about."

Bruce rose from his seat. He's taller than me, definitely lifts, Lester noted as he eyed Bruce warily.  
"Ok. We can do that Lester. We can do the whole TV cop routine. If that's what you want, we'll do that."

"Again, I don't know what.."

"You know, when I went for one of those boring business psychology seminars in college, they taught us how to detect when someone was being dishonest. Can you guess what the first thing was?"

Lester was silent, his eyes darting from Lucius to Bruce, like a trapped animal weighing his options.

"Denial. When forced to own up to a lie, a persons first instinct is to deny it. Instead of simply saying 'no', the person gives statements of denial. 'I don't know.' Sounds familiar?"

"Look,with all due respect, I'm not going to sit here and have you accuse me and waste my time with these slanderous allegations-"

"And now we come to number two. Trivialize the line of interrogation by attacking the interrogator. People do this when they feel backed into a corner. 'Why are you wasting my time with this?' is the stock phrase. And just in case you forgot,it's my name stamped on your paycheck,Lester."

"Mr Wayne sir, I swear to God-"

"Moving on swiftly to numbers three and four. Bringing up religion as a way of embellishing the lie. 'As god is my witness' and 'I swear to God' are the two most common phrases used. Being overly polite. Addressing me as 'sir', hoping to get on my good side."

Lester fell silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead, he wiped them with the back of his hand. He loosened his tie to let some air in.

"You've stopped talking, smart move. But your body is still speaking to me. In the space of 1 minute, you've fidgeted in your seat, touched your face and adjusted your tie."

Bruce held up 3 fingers like he was teaching a class.

"Moving anchor points, in this case your ass in that seat, bringing your hand to your head and grooming yourself by adjusting your tie, all textbook signs of dishonesty."

Jesus Christ? Who is this guy?Sherlock Holmes? Luther? Lester thought to himself. Still, he stayed silent. In his seat behind the table, Lucius was visibly impressed.

"Still won't talk? Ok. Let's talk about your problems. Problems that magically dissapeared a few months ago, when you committed the crime of corporate espionage."

Lester gulped then. Only when Bruce had said the words 'crime' and 'corporate espionage' did he realize the gravity of he situation he was in.

"Your wife left you. Took everything and then some. The house with the pool that cost you 15 years of your life busting your hump in the office. The Porsche Panamera you had just bought. The love of your teenage son and daughter. She even took your pitbull pup. Tough, I imagine."

Lester sat completely still, his face grey.

"You were in a mess. But you got a way out. Joined the gym, started working out and embraced the fitness life. Your wife-sorry, ex-wife- still wanted alimony though. You could afford it, barely. She took you to court, humiliated you a couple of times for delaying on the payments. Life sucked. You would have got back on your feet eventually, but you didn't want eventually. You wanted instant coffee."

Lester was speechless. His mouth suddenly felt very dry.

"You've been seeing your ex-wife recently. Nothing serious, but you two are sleeping together again. You've even got the Panamera back. But that's not all. You quite suddenly started making payments well before time a couple of months ago, right around the time those AI chips disappeared. You got yourself a sweet little bachelor pad on the Upper West Side too, where you've been screwing your ex-wife on a regular basis. This from a guy who was barely making ends meet this time last year. So either you're selling drugs or you're selling company secrets."

Bruce finished his elaborate presentation. Lucius was so impressed he almost burst into applause.

Lester's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times, his voice not making the sounds his lips were forming. He held his face in his hands.

"Please,please,please, don't take me to prison. I'm begging you-"

"You should have thought about that before you committed a crime." Bruce said sternly.

"I didn't know what else to do! Everything was going to shit, my whole life coming down around my ears-"

"Save all have our troubles. Every single one of us." Bruce replied stiffly. "Don't use them as an excuse to be a criminal."

Lester sobbed,taking off his glasses. "Please, I-I'll do anything you want me to.."

Took him all of 10 seconds, thought Bruce. "Tell us. Everything. Every. Thing."

 **2 hours later...**  
It was a very pleased(and relieved) Lester Williamson that left the office of Lucius Fox. He went straight to the bathroom and cried his eyes out, thanking a God he didn't entirely believe in for his gratitude. Then he cleaned up and resumed his 'work' at his computer.

Bruce and Lucius sat in the office.

"So."Lucius said.

"So." Bruce replied.

"Did you really learn all that stuff from a 'business psychology seminar'?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. Mind my asking where you learned it from?"

"I read a book by former CIA agents on the methods they used to detect dishonesty during interrogations."

"Really?"

"Really. It's on amazon."

"Huh." Lucius remarked. "It's amazing what information we have circulating out here."

"You have no idea." Bruce said.

"So what do you think he's using them for?"

"I have no idea. But I intend to find out. I never really liked Lex, he's always been a competitor, and there's all those rumors of his unsavory business practices. But a part of me had always hoped they were untrue."

"And Lester? Should we really just let him go? What's to stop him doing that again?"

"No. He's learned his lesson. Lester was just a man who found himself in a crappy situation and he chose the easy way out. Now that he's out of it and he's seen what it could have cost him in the long run, he won't do it again."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Anyone that goes back to the woman who left him for his little brother within months of their divorce isn't out to make a name for himself as a white-collar criminal. He just wants his old life back. We won't take him to the police. People like him just get ruined by the system."

"Is that Bruce Wayne or the other guy speaking?"

"Both." He replied without hesitation.

"You really believe that?"

"Yes. Is it so strange?"

"Frankly, yes."

"I just want to protect people from criminals. If I can help the criminals become better people along the way, or at the very least, stop them from getting worse, then I'll do everything I can to help. If they can't or won't be helped, well... I let those better equipped than I for such questions to grapple with them."

Lucius nodded with understanding. "You know Bruce, you're a good man. I know you don't hear that enough, what with the tabloids and the hate everyone has for the super-rich, not to mention the other stuff.. But you should know that."

"Thank you." Bruce said awkwardly. He moved on quickly. "We won't keep him on the workforce, naturally. We'll send him off with a sizeable retirement package after an appropriate time which you'll decide of course..."

Lucius nodded slowly as he listened to Bruce's instructions.  
Yes, he was a good man.

 **A/N:** ** **Happy New Year everyone.****

 **Read and Review.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Gotham,Wayne Manor,2.15PM**  
Bruce grunted as he pushed his bodyweight up and down on his right arm. A small face towel was draped over his shoulders to catch the sweat dripping from his head and on his torso. He shifted his weight onto his left arm and performed 20 repetitions,then shifted back to his right arm, using just the fingers for support.  
He repeated the motion with his left arm, then stood up, wiping his face and had just completed what he considered his light evening training session of 30 minutes shadow boxing,30 minutes jumping rope,100 pullups,100 situps and 100 pushups,all performed while wearing a 50lb weight vest.

Across the room on the massive computer monitor news images flashed across the screen in silence. He stood up and walked over to the monitor, pushing the mute button so the sound could play.

"...was a brief skirmish downtown, but it seems like Superman is finally starting to heed those complaints about collateral damage whenever these meta's have their little showdowns. See, right there"-the presenter zoomed in on the image of Superman flying out of Metropolis. A few hundred feet away from him was a dark blur that seemed to be moving in on the city very fast-"he left the city. Now sure, there was some damage, but it was mostly a tree, some craters in the ground. That is much better than his past exploits isn't it?"

"I think you're missing the point here, Susan. Whether he took the fight out of town or not, the fact is, the very existence of these so called 'superheroes', it encourages the formation of 'supervillains' to challenge them. In fact I'd go so far as to say superheroes are directly responsible for the existence of supervillains."

"And once upon a time, I would have agreed with you Rob. But now I'm thinking, as long as he protects humanity from these threats in a way that helps more than it hurts, is he really all that bad?"

"Well,we can acknowledge that, but consider that this...whatever it was that attacked Metropolis, that kind of stuff never happened before he showed up. All of these things happening lately all around the world. Weird things,things no one can explain. Take the latest eerie thing thats hit us these past few years. These freak events of nature, like the unexplained storms,dissapearance of ships and cargo, at all the major industrial ports. Closer home, were hearing things that are weird even for Gotham. Rumors of entire squads of police being slaughtered,psychos running around mutilating people,man-eating crocodiles in the sewers,cyborg assassins.. the list is endless. All of that started happening around the time Batman came on the scene-"

"Surely you don't believe in The Batman, do you Rob?" the hostess asked with a deprecating tone.

"I do. That might not make sense to you Susan, you have a nice job, you live in a nice part of town. The Gotham you live in is not the Gotham I live in. I live a few blocks from Crime Alley, the name probably means nothing to you-"

"Crime Alley, where Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered. Even I know what that means Rob." she replied with a toneless laugh.

"Yes. Anyway, I can assure you that the crime in the area reduced drastically over the past 5 years, which is around the time we started hearing these rumors of vampires,demons and all sorts of weird crap about kidnappings. Talk to people on the street, the ones who live in the urban areas, I guarantee they'll have a Bat story or two for you. Now you know and I know we don't have the most..er..competent police force in the state. What do you think is more likely, Batman is real or the GCPD suddenly pulled their heads out of their asses?"

"Well, when you put it that way.. So you admit that this Batman, that all these superheroes, they help us?"

"Yes. I've never denied that fact. Metahumans are just like us at the end of the day, except they have a slight genetic anomaly. There will be good and bad metahumans just as there are good and bad people, so it makes sense that there would be superheroes and supervillains. The problem here is we suffer as a result of their actions. They aren't governed by our laws. All of these metahumans who try to use their abilities to help mankind, they may have good intentions, but they need to be...regulated somehow. There needs to be some sort of system in place. Some form of accountability. Superman won't always be able to take the fight out of the city, what happens if he knocks down say, Lex Luthors big new shiny factory? Or God forbid, some children's home somewhere?"

Bruce pressed the mute button again.  
Lex.  
He hadn't forgotten about him. His intel would be coming in today, but he already had a pretty good idea what the Artificial Intelligence chips stolen from his company were used for. What didn't make sense was the endgame. Sure, Lex obviously disliked Superman and he did lose money every time one of his trucks blew up in a battle or a building of his got shot full of holes. It wasn't much money to a billionaire like Lex,so there had to be more to it. Or maybe it was as simple as Lex being an egomaniac who couldn't stand to see something he built tarnished in any way. Sometimes the easiest answer is the right one.

He could go after him in court. WayneTech sues Lexcorp for corporate espionage, among other things. He had more than enough money to bankroll it and get the best lawyers in the world to destroy Lex in court.

No.

With Lex it would come down to shady connections and underhanded deals,and Bruce knew he couldn't bring himself to use such methods, even for a good cause. Lex would worm his way out of trouble and he would learn nothing more of his plans.

He would have to go after him as Batman. That posed various problems. For starters, he didn't know Luthor's movements, and while he could use his satellites and surveillance equipment to monitor him, it would take too long to establish a routine and time was a precious commodity at this point. Second,it would require time away from Gotham, perhaps an extended period. This could easily be explained by Bruce Wayne, but Batman missing on the streets of Gotham even for a few nights is highly suspect, not to mention profitable for criminals. Third,he didn't like Metropolis. Too sparkly,too colorful, like a cheap christmas decoration.

What could he do? Reach out to Superman? He dismissed the notion almost as quickly as he thought it up. Superman would have no way of knowing who was coming after him, unless he was a highly skilled detective, which Bruce doubted. He would likely assume it was the military as always,though they hadn't come after him in quite a while. And if he found the WayneTech AI chip and put together the Wayne Enterprises US Military government contracts that would probably reinforce the notion that it was the army.

He could convince him that Lex Luthor is after him.  
How? Assuming Superman would be level headed, reasonable and willing to talk. But Bruce couldn't afford to assume. What would stop Superman from punching him in the face on sight? He would probably assume he was a threat once he saw him. And that raised another question, how would he even contact Superman?

Assuming Superman was telling the truth in his newspaper interviews, he had grown up on Earth. A person with such ability living among humans would have to have learned to hide his 'otherness', to camouflage himself in the masses. Bruce paused his train of thought. Too many things based off of assumption. But I have no choice. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

He would have to find Superman, in his alternate identity, the one that he used to masquerade as a human. Hopefully then he wouldn't get his head punched off, and they could talk. Hopefully. Back to the subject of finding kind of task was just about impossible.

Impossible If you aren't Bruce Wayne that is.

I have billions of dollars worth of military surveillance and communications equipment,and I'm a pretty damn good hacker if I do say so myself. How hard can it be? He thought.

 **Metropolis,9.15PM.**  
Perry White locked the door of his office, frowning as he noticed the trio sitting around their workspace. The usual suspects, he thought. Lois was a very, very ambitious reporter. Like most ambitious people who are really good at what they do, she was anally obsessive about getting the job done. Oftentimes Clark and Jimmy had to put up with a lot of late nights when Lois was on a hot streak.  
"Hey, you three. Get the hell out of here. Its Friday night."

"Wow chief. I thought you'd appreciate us burning the midnight oil." Lois remarked.

"Don't call me chief. I hate that. It's Friday night for God's sake. You're young. Go to a disco. Or whatever you kids get up to these days." Perry turned on his heel and left without waiting for a reply.

"Well." said Clark.

"Did he say Disco?"Lois queried.

"Y'know the way he speaks sometimes, it's like he's from another time."said Jimmy.

"Although, he does have a point. I've been working you guys to the bone"-Clark and Jimmy offered feeble protests-"so I guess I'll let you guys go for the weekend." The two men were visibly relieved. Lois grinned wickedly. "Use it wisely. Come Monday, we got more intel to collect so that means more field work, and I'd like to get the first 3 articles in the series fleshed out so that means another late night. See you then."With that she picked up her handbag and started to walk out of the office. That was Lois. Always ready to go at a moments notice.

"Lois, please tell me you're joking. Lois. Lois!" He turned to Clark. "She was joking right?"

"I hope so." Clark feigned a yawn.

"No, don't do that to me man. It's the first night we've had free in like 6 months."

"Jimmy, we've been working on this story for 3 days now."

"Whatever! The passage of time feels much slower when you don't get to unwind every once in awhile. I haven't had sex since September"-

"I didn't need to know that Jimmy."

But Jimmy rambled on-"and I really feel like tonight's gonna be the night, y'know? I'm feeling lucky. You know, when you just got that.. that feeling?"

Clark rubbed his face and sighed. Jimmy was definitely craving a night out. He knew he would have to go along. Jimmy had a kind of irritating vibe that strangely got him into a lot of fights with a lot of very scary people whenever he was in such a mood. He would probably be home past midnight.

Clark stood up and put on his coat."All right. But you're buying. I have a reporters salary."

Jimmy packed his camera into his bag."Oh'cause us newspaper photographers are rolling in the green right?"

"You've been wearing some very snazzy loafers lately Jimmy. And the shirts? Where are you getting all that money from? Did a rich uncle die and leave you everything?"

Jimmy blushed and said nothing.

"Woah, Jimmy, you've been holding out on me?"

"It's uh.. It's just a thing I do on the side, a.. uh.. photography thing.."

"What kind of photography thing?"

Jimmy blushed again. "Look.. uh.. I'll tell you later, ok?"

"Ok. Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Azteca?"

Clark laughed outright. "I'm not standing in line for 3 hours so I can get into a club that plays music I don't like and charges 3 times the usual rate for a drink. Besides, we're not in college anymore. I can't party all night and be functional the next day like I used to."

"Yeah, you got a point. Getting older sucks huh?" Jimmy's eyes got a distant faraway look.

"Yeah." Clark said. "Anyway, let's get going?"

"Sure. Just let me lock up here. Left it open once, Perry almost had a heart attack."

 **Several hours later, 3.22AM**  
Clark walked down the street outside his house, looking around. It was late, or early depending on how one looked at it. As predicted, the night with Jimmy had been quite eventful. After 2 near fights with 2 different groups of men who looked like they came off the set of Sons of Anarchy, Clark and Jimmy made their way to another bar a few blocks away, where Jimmy revealed his 'photography thing'. Apparently he took photos of animals dressed in childrens clothes, then photoshopped them according to the owners needs. It was a strange job but the client was a rich old lady and Jimmy badly needed the money. Two women at the bar who overheard Jimmy's tale thought it was cute and came over to their table. By the end of the night the two women and Jimmy were quite drunk, and it fell on Clark to get them home(as usual).

He had barely made it back alone, one of the women had been interested in Clark, making passes at him all night that he politely declined. In the cab, he was forced to physically restrain her when she got violent,then he listened in awkward silence as she wept and talked about her ex who she claimed had given her chlamydia. She had sobered up a little when they got to her home, giving Clark her number and kissing him quickly before going into her apartment with an embarassed air.

Clark threw the number in the dumpster before he got back in the cab.

The streets were deserted. All the lights in the buildings were off, save for the streetlights outside. It was safe.  
He floated up to his window and pushed it open, floating into his house.

He knew something was off right away. The air current had changed ever so slightly, it didn't feel the way it was supposed to. Something was causing an obstruction somewhere in the room. Feigning ignorance, he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, opening a bottle of beer and drinking deeply from it. Clark wasn't stupid. As soon as he was old enough to understand how the world worked, he had known that one day, someway somehow his identity would be uncovered, and someone, probably the military, would come after him. He had known this day would come eventually, but now that it was here he found he didn't know how to react. His only consolation was that Jonathan and Martha wouldn't be here to see this.

As he drank from the bottle, he focused his senses. He could hear a heartbeat. It was slow, incredibly slow, and steady. Clark was sure he had never heard a slower heartbeat in his life. He focused on the breathing next. It was also unusually slow. Very deep and even, like the person was deep asleep. It was a man, Clark was certain. He couldn't explain it, it was something about the strangers presence he could sense. He could smell something too. It was very faint. The slightest whiff of cologne or aftershave, and not the cheap kind.

"I know you're here. Show yourself." Clark said to the empty room.

He had hardly finished saying the words before a caped figure emerged from the darkest corner of the room. Clark scrutinized the could see the outline of the man in the faint light. The horns on his head, the dark cape that hung from his shoulders. The black insignia on his chest. The scallops on the gloves. The white slits that were his eyes.

Clark had been expecting a slick government agent type. Perhaps a Jason Bourne/Ethan Hunt kind of guy at most. A man in a horned black rubber suit hadn't even been on the list. Clark would have laughed if it wasn't for the severity of the situation.

"Clark Kent, we need to talk." The man said in a gruff voice.

 **A/N: Hope everyone is having a good year so far. Was hoping for a few more reviews, but I see I've been added to the BMWW ship community(which is great), so thank you. As always read and review.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Gotham, 11.15PM**  
Bruce had almost given up trying to find Superman.  
There was little promise to begin with. Try as he might, he couldn't form anything concrete over these past few hours. Information on Superman was scant, mostly in the form of newspaper interviews with the Daily Planet. Bruce was loath to trust that information, mainly because it was provided by Superman himself, and he had to assume the alien was lying.

He knew that Superman had surfaced in Metropolis around late 2010, and thanks to the interview Bruce knew that Superman was in his early twenties at the time. But that didn't mean much. It still didn't answer much about his secret identity. Bruce rubbed his chin thoughtfully, feeling the stubble on his jaw. He made a mental note to shave before going on patrol. Batman with 5 o'clock shadow just wouldn't do.

He leaned back in his chair.  
 _Ok, think Bruce, think_. The interview stated that Superman came to Earth as a baby when his home world was destroyed, then he was raised by humans. If he's in his early twenties, and assuming he developed at the same rate as humans at the very least, he probably came to earth circa 1990. The military would have the vessel that brought Superman to Earth, unless baby Superman flew all the way here, which was ridiculous even for him. But as far as Bruce knew(and he knew a lot) the military didn't have anything like that in their possession.

Which meant nothing was ever recovered from the crash site. That shouldn't have been possible, not in this day and age. You can't just dissapear anymore, this was something Bruce knew too well because of his government contracts. Big brother was always watching. Watching everyone, everywhere, everytime. There was just no way a UFO, however small, penetrated Earth's atmosphere without detection.

Bruce began searching the records in his files. Waynetech hadn't cut a deal with the military until well into 2003, so he wouldn't be able to find anything in his own database. He hacked into the NSA database, hoping to find some information. He pored through the records for hours. FBI,CIA, no one had anything on him, if they did, they had it buried deep. Very, very, very deep. Though he picked up a lot of very valuable information in those hours, almost none of it was related to Superman.

After a short break(during which he performed katas for an hour)he returned to the task, his mind refreshed by the change in activity. It was so obvious now. He should be looking in space for evidence of Superman's entry, not on Earth. He hacked the NASA database,going through the files marked confidential. He scrolled through them for an hour, nothing of interest. Then he came across something. It was encyrpted. He could let the program he set up create an algorithm to deal with it. Or he could cook up something special and hack through it himself. He cracked his knuckles and started hammering at the keys.

 **3 Hours later...**  
At long last, he had gotten through. It was a fiendishly difficult code to crack,the encyrption changing and becoming more complicated with each hour.

With an air of satisfaction, he opened the document. The document showed readings from the NASA instruments in outer space. The satellites stationed just outside the atmosphere had some very telling information. There were anomalies in some of the readings from the satellites in 1990.

It fits the date. Not much, but it's all I got. The file was heavily encrypted. No one puts that much security around something unless its of immense value, he thought to himself.

He went deeper into the file, searching for any more information.

The satellites were stationed directly above Houston. He smiled at the irony of the situation. So whatever caused the anomalies landed somewhere in Texas. That gave rise to another thought. He backtracked and found one of the NSA files he had read, a report tabled by the CIA. They had recieved information that a UFO may have landed in the state of Texas, but the information(which Bruce suspected came from someone at NASA,but had in fact come from a sherriff who didn't know what to make of it when he saw a flaming metallic comet flying through the night sky)had been inconclusive about the exact location the UFO had landed-technology being much less advanced and accurate at the time. The report stated that nothing of interest had been found, save for a crater and a small object(unidentified)that had been recovered inside the crater. Bruce checked the location. Smallville. Then he referenced that with anything that shared that name within Texas.

There were few results, which was a very good sign. He settled on Smallville, a small farming town on the outskirts of Kansas. As he read about the town and looked at images of the area, he realized how it all fit in perfectly, as bizarre as it all sounded. Alien falls from the sky, lands in small rural town. Raised by good rural folk, alien becomes superhero.

It made sense in other ways too. Close knit,small town folk of the sort found in Smallville were less likely to talk to strangers, especially strangers from the big city, with dark suits and earpieces who were too rude to take off their sunglasses when speaking to someone,strangers driving sleek black unmarked cars.  
In a town like Smallville, no one would notice a little spaceship crashing in a farm somewhere, provided the owner of the farm cleared it up afterwards.  
In a town like Smallville, everybody keeps to themselves, and nobody asks too many questions.  
Everyone knows everyone and trust once earned is bound for life. It was the American Heartland ideal.  
And it was the perfect place for an alien that looks like everyone else to grow up.

Bruce got down to the town records next, only bothering with the hospital records so he could rule them out. He didn't know if Supermans powers were there from birth but he assumed someone who shrugged off anti-tank missiles and mustard gas with ease as an adult probably didn't get the sniffles as a child. Even if he did get sick,an alien baby, though it looked human on the outside, was bound to have differences in its physiology. Differences that would become all too clear when it was examined by people whose business it was to know the human body intricately. He had visions of inoculation needles bending when they were pushed into his skin,a nurses fingers crushed in an iron grip or strange organs showing up in X-ray scans. His adoptive parents would have known better(evidently they did).

 _So assuming Superman did everything a normal human does, he probably went to school, then college, then what? He has a day job?_  
That would be ridiculous, for a man with such abilities to waste his time as a civilian when he could be doing so much more. Smallville being a small town made everything so much easier. There was only one school in the town, and it was nothing at all to hack the school records for enrolment sometime in the late 90's. He started with 1996, going forward from there. It was incredibly boring, reading the profiles of students in an effort to trace Superman,and there were hundreds of thousands of students, even if he found him, at this rate he would be done in months. He had to get this done by tonight. Somehow. He decided to check the athletics records for high school and college. A man who can lift a tank and fly faster than a Lear jet would have been a beast on the football field,or any sport really, in his younger years. But more than that, he would have been really good, and he would have been forced to stop, or he would expose himself.

He came across a couple of students over the years who dropped out of athletics for various reasons. There was one in 2001, a Victor Ramirez who dropped out of wrestling after he shattered his collarbone. He dismissed that. Another in 2003, Sean Holmes who was a talented swimmer but later got expelled for selling weed to football players, so Bruce dismissed that too. There were two others, a Clark Kent in 2004 who was doing very well in the football team but dropped out due to 'personal reasons' and a Micheal Phillips who played basketball and moved away from Smallville abruptly. He kept these two names in his mind as he intensified his search.

He found no more interesting information on Michael Phillips, he was by all means an average student and a great pointguard. Quite popular in high school, voted most likely to become a professional athlete. Basically no different from any other jock in high school.

Clark Kent was more interesting. He was a stellar student in middle school and he played various sports quite well, yet the teachers comments state that he was somewhat awkward with other students and that he was bullied. In high school the bullying stopped,the grades dropped and he joined the football team. The three were obviously related, but Bruce thought it felt a little contrived, perhaps because he too knew what it was like to lead a double life.

Clark Kent dropped out of the football team after a killer season, much to the dismay of the coach and players as well as the school. During that season he set the highest records for the most runs, tackles and interceptions, and he won the MVP award 3 times. In his years at school he was also the editor for the school newspaper,and a hall monitor.

Bruce opened a file photo of Clark Kent in his kit, huddled around other players. Clark is small, barely filling out his kit, looking comical with his tiny head between the massive shoulder pads. It's not what he's expecting. He expected...well more.

He continued his research nonetheless. Clark Kent graduated from University of Metropolis in 2008, having studied Journalism and Philosophy. He followed the trail until it came to an article on the Daily Planet. It was a piece on Superman. Bruce read the article, then leaned back in his seat. He opened a photo of Clark Kent, a recent one. He wanted to kick himself in the face. A journalist who worked at the Daily Planet,lived in Metropolis and came from the same state and town that a UFO(which was never recovered)crashed.

The journalist who he met at the party in Gotham.

 _Well, I found him. Now what?_

"How goes the work Master Wayne?"

"Terrible."

"Nonsense. Each time I hear you say that, and each time you prevail. Alfred glanced at the screen." I see you've found your mark."

"I have, but that doesn't solve everything. I still have to figure out what to do with this information."

Alfred was quiet for some time, then he said,"What do you feel?"

"Feel?" He replied as though it was a foreign concept.

"Well, what does your gut tell you?"

"My gut? I'm a detective Alfred. I can't rely on things like that when I'm running an investigation. Animal cunning is no match for trained,strategic intellect."

"I've often heard it said that there is method to everything, even madness. In any case, I should think a good detective would hone his gut instinct." Alfred said knowingly.

Bruce ground his teeth. "All right Alfred, and how would one hone their 'gut instinct' if they wanted to be a 'good detective'?"

"Well sir,one would exercise it whenever possible. Isn't that what you do when you train? You keep doing something until you're good at it."

"It seems obvious now that you say it." Bruce said after some thought.

"Hindsight is 20/20."

"Ok Sensei, I get it."

"You're welcome." Alfred replied with mock sass. He cleared the untouched plate of low fat apple pie and the cold cup of coffee, thinking sadly how his food always went untouched whenever Bruce was working hard on a case, which was often.

As he walked to the elevator, Bruce called out.

"Alfred."

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Thank you."

"Not at all sir. That was all you, you just needed the push." Alfred said with a smile.

Bruce pushed a button on the console of the computer. The floor beside him whirred and his car was raised up and out of a chamber underground. He pushed another button, then got up and walked over to the mantle where his costume was raised out of a capsule in the ground. At first he was startled, but then he saw the yellow tab of paper stuck on the chestplate. _Consider this thanks for solving our little problem. Made some modifications. The scallops on the gauntlets are particularly interesting. Lucius._ The costume was darker,almost entirely black. The bat insignia looked heavier and larger,the tips of the wings extending across his chest.

 _It must be fate,_ he thought as he eyed the new costume.

He donned the costume, the leggings and boots first, then gloves, then the cape and cowl. He flexed and stretched. The suit was lighter, but it felt stronger, more durable. He checked his gauntlets and noticed a tiny little flap with a button underneath. He pushed it and the scallops were fired into the wall. Three more scallops slid in to replace them on the gauntlets.

Bruce walked over to the car, running his finger along its edge. He paused when he got to the door. Metropolis was a long way away. The car was fast, it would cover the distance with ease, but this was a stealth mission. A massive black armor plated vehicle roaring through the streets of Metropolis wasn't stealthy.

He walked past the car, to something covered under a tarp. Grasping the rough canvas, Bruce couldn't help but feel he was doing something significant. Something huge. Like he was standing on the cusp of a great age, something that was going to change the world, hell,maybe even the universe. This must have been what the first men on the moon felt. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he just... felt like he was stepping into the great unknown, and he wasn't entirely sure what that meant for him, or the world for that matter.

 _Get a grip. Probably what everyone thinks when they make a big step in their life_ , he thought.

But as he pulled the tarp away, he couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness he felt in the pit of his stomach.

 **A/N: Can't wait for DoJ. It seems like 'regular' fans think the previews give away too much or else don't understand the plot at all. A friend of mine (who is a casual fan) said she didn't realize that the armored suit Batman has been wearing in all the trailers enabled him to fight Superman toe to toe until she watched the final official trailer, but we fanboys and girls are totally geeking out. It finally looks like were going to see Batman and Bruce Wayne operate the same way he does in animated films/series, video games and comic books. I'd have liked to see some more Wonder Woman in the final trailer but I guess I'll just have to wait until the film is out. Also Deadpool is absolutely killing it here in Kenya, everyone loves it. It's a good time to be a comic book fan.  
Read and Review.**


	20. Chapter 20

**26th June 1999,**

 **10.45PM, Gotham City, Park Row**

Two men sat in a weather beaten 1966 Chevrolet El Camino. The passenger was a lean, hatchet-faced man with short brown hair and blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in his face. He was Joe Chill, one of the most ruthless enforcers in Gotham. At present he was nervously eyeing the exit door of the building they were parked next to.

The driver was much younger. His blonde hair was clipped short and straight like the bristles on a brush. He was much brawnier than his companion, and taller too. On his meaty shoulder was a tattoo of a black crest depicting a silver saber and two crossed arrows. His thick fingers drummed idly on the steering wheel.

His name was Arnold Flass. He was a former Green Beret, dishonorably discharged. Now he made his living as a driver and bodyguard for the Falcone crime family. He was an up-and-comer,making a name for himself in a few months as a reliable man. He was marked for a higher role in service to the Family.

Tonight was the first night the two would be working together.

It smelled of stale cigarettes and vodka in the cabin. The radio blared Aerosmith's 'Don't Want To Miss A Thing',drowning out the sound of the rain that was coming down outside.

The car looked old. The paint had once been a bright cherry red, but now it was a dull maroon and one of the doors was white. Anyone walking down the street that night would have found it markedly strange sitting among the monochromatic rows of European luxury cars. But underneath the hood was a brand new suspension system and a powerful turbocharged V12 engine mated to a large nitrous oxide cylinder. Even the fastest news chopper in Gotham would have a hard time keeping up.

It was parked outside the Harlequin's Cinema on Park Row, the street often nicknamed 'Gotham's Broadway' because of the numerous Theatre's. The song on the radio ended, and it cut to the host rambling about how the millenium was fast approaching and how everyone should repent.

"How old are you kid?"

"24 sir."

"You don't have to call me sir."

"Alright."

"So. You got a name?"

"Flass."

"Billy told me you were in the Army. Special Forces."

"Yes si... I was a Green Beret."

"Seen any action?"

"Not as much as I'd have liked. Mostly training."

"Why'd you get discharged?"

"Officially? I developed a heart defect after I got injured in a live fire training exercise. Really it was because I was selling drugs."

Joe chuckled.

"Not what you think. PED's."

"What the hell are those?"

"Cocktails of steroids,painkillers, beta-blockers. Stuff like that. To help with recovery and enhance performance."

"Huh. Is the job that hard on the body?"

"Yeah, but by the time you finish the Q-course you feel invincible. For a recruit just starting out though, it's hell. Months of dealing with stress fractures, tendonitis, joint and muscle pain,elevated heart rates,fatigue,dehydration. And that's just what the daily physical training does to you. So yeah, a lot of them are customers."

"Damn. So how did they get around drug tests? Those must've been pretty regular."

"Well, I was one of the PT instructors, so I could switch their urine and blood samples,forge medical documents if necessary. Nothing to it."

Joe whistled.

"Bad luck getting caught I guess." He said as he lit a cigarette.

"No. I was careless. I got greedy. I made enough the first few cycles, I should have dropped out while it was still good. Instead I roped in some of the recruits thinking they could help me make more. I should have known better than to trust rookies."

"Hey, that's the price of ambition,sometimes you get burned. Still, we could use a guy like you Flass."

"Thanks, but no. I figure I work this job for a few months to get some financing, then I go to the police academy."

"Why waste youself as a cop?"

"Who says I'm wasting myself? I can't go back to the military. And I like being an inside man."

The man smiled and nodded with understanding. "Infiltrate them. Smart move."

They sat in silence for a few moments as the radio played commercials.

"There's Wayne." Flass said.

The leaner man turned, peeking through the rain streaked windshield to see his target. His stomach felt unusually cold and heavy. Flass punched him on the shoulder.

"Good luck man." he heard him say as if from a great distance. He opened the car door, flicking the cigarette butt into a puddle of water underneath him as he exhaled a final stream of smoke.

He lagged behind the trio at first, trying to stay out of sight. They were about to cross the road. There was a charcoal grey Mercedes SLK coupe parked on the other side of the road,which he and Flass had tailed hours earlier and knew to be Wayne's car.

If he didn't act soon he would miss his chance.

Wait.

The kid,pulling on his father's arm. He wants ice cream. Or a hot dog or pop corn or candy. Something. Joe can't tell, really he doesn't care.

I won't lose any sleep from slapping daddy around in front of the spoiled brat, he thought as he eyed the shiny wristwatch on the boy's hand.

I never even had a pair of underwear when I was the kid's age.  
It'll teach these Blue Bloods, with their picture-perfect cookie-cutter Ken & Barbie lives, that money doesn't make them invincible.

He moves closer.

The kid sees him first. A brief glance, but he takes no notice of him.

He moves closer.

The father looks up. He senses danger immediately. He stands before the boy protectively. His arm is outstretched.

"Martha..." he says with a tone of warning. She turns,brushing her short hair aside, the smile on her pretty face fading as she notices Joe.

He raises the sawn off Remington 870 shotgun that he had been concealing behind his back, cocking it.

Perfect ice-breaker.

"Give me the pearls lady." He says in his best menacing growl.

Her hands tremble as she works to unfasten the necklace. He studies her keenly. She is slightly taller than him even though she is wearing flats,with a wasp like waist. She was very beautiful. He had never seen her outside of newspapers or a TV screen. He wondered how a woman like her found herself with a brown-nosing busybody like Wayne. Maybe nice guys didn't always finish last. If they were really rich, smart, and handsome to boot. Her eyes were on the gun as she unfastened the necklace and handed it over.

He was enjoying this. On any other day a stone cold fox like her would never give him so much as a cursory glance, but now he held the power over life and death he was all she cared to look at.

"Earrings too. Hurry up!" He barked, gesturing impatiently with the shotgun.

Instinctively Martha's hand flew out to protect her son.

Rather uncharacteristically, Joe panicked, his finger squeezing the trigger reflexively. The gun went off like a cannon in his hand, and the pellets ripped through Martha's gut. She reached a hand up to her stomach where patches of blood began to appear on her peach colored dress. There was no sound except the echo of the shot and the soft patter of rain.

Like a man possessed,or stuck in a dream,he finds he cannot stop. He pulls back on the slide again, unloading another shot into her torso. Everything happens as if in slow motion. As she falls back, a look of utter surprise and despair on her face, Wayne screams like a wounded animal.

"Nooooooooooooo!" He caught her before she fell. He could feel the hot blood gushing from her body.

"You're going to be all right Martha.. Just keep pressure on the wounds.."

"My sweet Thomas.. ever the optimist.." She gasped with pain.

"Just hold on honey."

"I...I can't.." Tears of frustration streaked down her cheeks. She sobbed.

"Thomas... My love..."she whispered weakly.

"Ssh.. I'm not going anywhere Martha."

"Bruce..Where is he?" she asked hoarsely.

"Here." Thomas said, fighting back tears. He wouldn't cry. Not now.

"I love you both...so so much.." She said weakly.

Her bloodied hands touched the faces of the two people she loved most one final time, then they fell limp.

Thomas Wayne bowed his head in sorrow, then he slowly rose and faced the gunman.

Instinctively Joe knew what was about to happen. Wayne's mustache was literally quivering with rage and his face had gone deadly pale. He fired a shot into Wayne's torso as he charged madly at him,horrified when the man only slowed but didn't stop.

He fired 2 more shots straight into Wayne's torso in quick succession, downing the bigger man just before he reached him. Wayne fell on his knees,his mouth gurgling with blood, his white shirt stained red all across the front. The child scuttled close to his dying father when he motioned for him to come closer. There was a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Bruce..Be strong..I...I'm sorry..I love you...S.. .."Thomas gasped suddenly, and lay still,his eyes turning glassy.

Joe exhaled at last, vapor clouding before his face. The blood was already starting to seep out of their bodies. So much of it. The rain washes it away slowly, draining it into the sewer. He can hear the engine of the El Camino roaring.

Time to go.

He looked at the child, recoiling at his expression.

All this time, the kid had been stock-still. But he had been staring at Joe with a look of intense contempt. There was a raging inferno of hatred behind those steel grey eyes. He had seen the same look in the father's eyes. He had seen the same look in countless men's eyes. The smouldering fires of revenge. They would burn forever. He knew right then that he should kill the kid.

But he just couldn't bring himself to do it. It was bad enough he killed the parents... And it wasn't like the kid could ID him. Assuming he was caught. There was no real need to kill him, was there?.

He looked at the child again, saw the hate etched into every line of his face. He raises the gun slowly. The boy doesn't even blink.

No, I won't kill the kid. Some lines you just don't cross.

That was when he noticed that the hotdog guy was at the payphone across the street, probably calling the police. Joe pulled the cap and hoodie lower down over his head and sprinted to the car. He jumped in.

"What the fuck man?! You weren't supposed to ice them!"

"Shut up and drive!"

Flass floored the accelerator and the car tore off up the street with its tires squealing, leaving smoke and blaring car alarms in its wake.

Bruce Wayne was left alone with the bodies of his parents. He clasped their hands,which were still warm.

"Mom. Dad. Wake up." He shook them. no response. "Mommy. Daddy. Wake up now."

The hotdog man finally felt safe enough to step out of the phone booth, hanging up his call. He walked over to where the bodies lay.

"Uh, son... You should probably get out of the rain now. I've called the Police, they're on their way. Kid?"

"They do this every time." Bruce said.

"Sorry?"

"They pretend they'll never wake up. They do it with me everytime I wake them up on Christmas morning. They'll wake up, you'll see."

The hotdog man sighed sadly. He looked at the corpses, recognizing their faces.

"Holy... Is that... And... Oh my god..." He said as he realized he had borne witness to a high profile assassination.

"Mommy, Daddy, it's not funny anymore. Wake up!" Their hands were cold now.

"Um.. Kid.. Uh.. I think they're.." He found himself unable to say the words as the boy looked up at him with desperation, then pain, then sudden comprehension on his young face.

Bruce felt hot tears of rage and helplessness running down his face. He wept bitterly, with such intensity that even the hotdog vendor felt he was intruding and retreated several steps back.

Eventually, he stopped. He became aware of the rain pounding down on him, the flash of camera's, the whine of Police sirens, the babble of voices.

He went through it all, the interviews with the Police, the talks with the family lawyers, the talk with the Police trauma therapist as if in a trance.

The bodies had hardly been identified before everyone started referring to him as Mr Wayne, though he was still a child.

When he finally got home, Alfred had no words for him, merely resting a hand on his shoulder for a few moments.

That night Bruce made a solemn vow that he would get his revenge. No matter how long it took, no matter what it cost him, no matter the odds, he would accept the challenge. As he drifted off to sleep,not quite tired but craving any form of respite, his last thought was the bright blue pair of eyes that peeked out at him from the folds of the hooded jacket, like spotlights in the dark.

 **Present Day,**  
 **11.15PM, Gotham City**

The man sat inside his black BMW X6, watching the rain streak across his windshield. The heaters were on and he felt comfortable in his wool gloves and thick coat.

He studied his reflection in the windshield of his car. He was dressed well, the clothes tasteful and expensive. He learned over the years that the more professional you look and act the more bargaining power you have. His face was lined, wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. His salt and pepper hair was becoming more salt than pepper. He adjusted his prescription eyeglasses.

He felt uneasy. This was going to be his first arms deal with metahumans. This new wave of criminals was a mystery to him. Most of them seemed to lack the greed for money and power the average crook had. He missed the old days. Sure, by the 80's and 90's crime had changed, but it was about bribing more people or being smarter. The focus was still making lots of money. This new breed of criminal seemed to want chaos for the sake of it. People were into ideologies now,or rather they were into ideologies again, so the battlefield was changing. Now it was all about hacking. Bio-terrorism. Eco-terrorism in the case of that crazy hot botanist,and all sorts of other stuff that he just didn't understand.

And it wasn't just that. Things were getting strange these past few years. Gotham wasn't a safe place to do business anymore. He had been losing more money and more customers ever since Batman showed up on the scene, forcing him to deal more and more with the type of people that made even his skin crawl.

Over the years he had sold to mercenaries of every race and religion. Some of the roughest looking men-and a few very rare women-he had ever seen, with a cold gleam in their eyes that made them look more like predatory animals than human beings. They came from everywhere. From Libya to Ukraine.

He had met with bearded jihadi's in places so bare and desolate he wondered how they ever got anything done. He wondered too at the irony of men who bought munitions that hailed from and were crafted by the very people they professed to hate and wanted to exterminate. They were foreign based cells of course. If one of the men aboard the ill fated 9/11 Airliner had so much as brandished a pistol he had sold, the guilt would have killed him.

Even an arms dealer had to pick and choose.

He had sold .50cals and AK's to the rebel groups that controlled natural resources in Central Africa,receiving several large uncut diamonds as payment. He had sold to the drug cartels in South America who wanted to arm their men with weapons as sophisticated as that of their elite law enforcement officers.

All that changed when Superman and all the rest showed up. 'Super'heroes and their offshoots were making damn near everything obsolete. How was he supposed to sell guns when some guy was up all night every night beating on his customers with a dedication bordering on mental illness?

He just didn't see himself fitting in this new world. Foremost of the fears in his mind was the thought of Batman running into him and kicking his teeth in. He had never actually experienced anything directly, but he had heard stories about his former associates, some of whom were attacked personally. The stories weren't pretty, and more than a few of them spent months in hospital recovering from their encounters. It was highly unlikely that would happen to him though. Gotham was a big town, the Bat would likely be somewhere else. What were the chances he would be out here on this dock, tonight?

Anyway, soon he wouldn't have to worry about that. If this deal went through he'd have enough to get squared away without worrying about his kids college tuition or his father's medical bills.  
He checked the time on his Breitling impatiently. An hour and 47 minutes. Unbelievable. That was another thing with this new breed. No respect.

As if on cue, one large truck led by one motorcycle appeared, the bike in the lead flashed its light 3 times.

He leaned over and flashed his headlights in response.

The car doors opened and two men stepped out of the truck.

From his position on the rafters he could see everything.

He could see no weapons, but he assumed they were armed. They all had beefy builds. He zoomed in with his cowl lenses. One was tall, heavily tattooed. The other was shorter and darker, he was much more muscular.

The man who was clearly the leader stepped off of his bike and walked forward. He took off his helmet, revealing shoulder length brown hair. He walked forward and the older man did the same with an extended hand.

"I believe you're Bird?"

He winced slightly under his very firm handshake.

"Correct. Joe Chill?"

The man nodded slowly.  
Bird motioned to the two men just behind him. "This is Trogg, and this is Zombie. My associates tell me you're the go-to guy for anyone that wants weapons. Said you got some top notch military grade toys."

"Your associates were correct. I trust you have the money?"

Bird looked back at the truck with a sarcastic gesture.

"Yes."

"May I see it?"

"Look, this isn't the fucking UPS old timer. I'm not going to bring it to your door and put it under your rug. You got what we need?"

Joseph laughed tonelessly. "Ease up friend. I got what you need and then some. Come, let's speak inside." He motioned to a large warehouse.

Inside, there were several armed men standing guard and a few others unloading crates from a large container.

Bird walked over to one of the crates, running his hands over the iron box.

"Let me get you a crowbar..."Joseph said as he turned his head to his men.

There was a shrieking, tearing sound as Bird gripped the lid of the crate and wrenched it open with his bare hands. Joseph turned back, trying very hard to conceal his shock. Bird dropped the heavy metal lid on the ground.

"Beautiful."He said as he picked up a Javelin Anti-Tank Missile Launcher.

"For $80,000 a piece, I should think so. It wasn't easy to get them either."

There was another loud, ripping sound as Bird opened the second crate. Joseph blinked his shock away, licking his lips nervously.

"M590's. One of the best shotgun rifles on the market. 12 gauge,pump action. Also got M1014's, 12 gauge, semi-automatic. That'll blow through most all body armor. Grenade launchers come free with all rifles. That M2 .50cal is ex-special forces. It's got promethium tipped armor piercing rounds that could cut through the presidents limo. Comes with an M203 40mm grenade launcher. Heavy machine guns that can be mounted on vehicles as requested. We got light machine guns too. M249 SAWs, 5.56mm,should rip through most obstacles. Sniper rifles of all kinds, MK 12's and MK 110's. Pistols of course, M9 Beretta's, and a bonus, Sig Sauer P228's. Those were especially hard to get, but they're the best. We've also got standard assault rifles, AK-47's. AR-15's."

"Excellent. Trogg, show the man his goods."

The most thickly muscled of the men grunted and brought several duffel bags out.

Joe and his henchmen exchanged glances.

"Is this a joke? Unless those are gold bricks, you boys are way short."

"Oh they're gold bricks all right." Bird said humorously.

He bent down. Dozens of cocaine bricks.

Joe had worked himself into a slow rage, dropping all pretence of his calm, dignified bearing.

"What the fuck is this?" He asked icily.

"We can't get you cash right now, but that Bolivian marching powder right there is worth at least 3 times what we owe you. Consider it a favor."

He had enough. He pulled out his Glock 30 and cocked the slide. There was a series of clicks and locks as his men moved to do the same behind him with their weapons.

"Now listen here junior, this just won't do. First of all, you come here late, make me wait almost 2 hours. Then when you do show up, you're rude. As if that's not insult enough, you pay me with drugs? Am I supposed to sell that shit? I mean do I look like a fucking dopeman? You boys think you're hot shit because you got powers. Let me tell you, I've been around the block a few times. Whoever you are, Gotham will chew you up and shit you out."

"We don't need advice from a two-bit hustler." Trogg spoke for the first time. His voice was unnaturally deep.

"Fucking meta's." Joe said.

Without hesitation he shot Trogg in the kneecap. Trogg only staggered back one step, then he smiled coldly.

"What the fuck?" Joe said.

If ever there was a time to strike, he thought as he descended upon them, its now. His cape fluttered like leathery wings around him. He smashed through the glass windows on the ceiling, raining shards of glass down below, causing chaos. As he fell he threw an EMP batarang at the fuse box and it exploded with bright sparks. The dark room was filled with cries of alarm and soon erupted with the muzzle flash of rifles and pistols as the men opened fire.

"Don't shoot you idiots!" Chill shouted.

The shooting halted abruptly.

"It's the Batman." One of the men said with certainty.

"Who?" Bird asked.

"Me." A gravelly voice beside him said. His face exploded with light as Batman punched him hard with a perfectly executed uppercut. He seemed to float in the air for a few seconds, then the back of his head cracked painfully against the ground. He rose slowly,his mind reeling. He had never been hit so hard in his life. He tasted blood in his mouth, and he could feel it running from his nose. His head felt strange. He suspected he had a mild concussion. If it wasn't for his enhanced state he would surely have passed out from the pain alone. His pants were warm. He realized he had momentarily lost bladder control.

"Goddamn.." He gasped as he tottered backwards and onto his feet, stunned. "..Motherfucker made me piss myself-" An elbow to the face quickly put Bird out of commission, and he collapsed in a heap.

"What was that?!"

"Stay calm."

"What the fuck was that?"

"I said stay cal-"

"Mike? Mike?"

Silence.

"Oh God! Oh please oh God No! Please! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!-"

The room exploded with gunfire again. Batman kept to the shadows, sprinting between crates and throwing his batarangs towards the gunmen.

"Jesus christ! It's like he's everywhere! Fuck it,I'm out!"the man shouted. He ran blindly out of the room, falling flat on his face as thick bolas twirled around his arms and legs.

"Fuck!" He roared as he felt the blood gush hotly from his nose. He rolled around on the ground in a futile effort to free himself. A boot came down on his face,

Surrounded by 8 men was a cloaked figure he could only assume was Batman, pounding his henchmen into the pavement with frightening ease. Three men screamed as they were hit with a powerful burst of electric current from his gauntlet. He dropped a smoke pellet as soon as he dispatched the 3, and attacked the remaining five men under the cover of smoke, rendering them all unconscious in seconds.

"Zombie, get the truck. I'll get Bird. We're getting the hell out of here and leaving all the stuff behind. This job is screwed." Zombie nodded and sprinted off towards the truck as Trogg picked up Bird and followed suit.

Batman turned just as the truck roared off. He could call the car, give chase. Or he could secure the weapons, drugs and scene until the Police arrived.

"Help. Help me." It was faint, barely audible. He walked over to the source of the voice.

"Help. I've been shot real bad. Call 911 or something."

Batman crouched down, looking into the man's face, then he studied his wounds. He was breathing heavily. Already he was shivering and turning pale from blood loss. His white cotton shirt was now wine red. He was going into shock, he would almost certainly die, unless he got immediate medical attention.

"What are you waiting for? Help me!"

"Do you know who I am, Joe Chill?"

"You're the Batman."

"Yes. But before I became the Batman, I was someone else. Something else."

Chill was getting nervous. There was something strange about his voice.

He took off his cowl, slowly exposing his face. Chill's blue eyes never leaving his face.

"How about now?" his voice sounded like its usual self.

Chill laughed, to Bruce's evident surprise.

"Well shit. Bruce Wayne. Yeah. Now I remember. So you became Batman, huh? Makes perfect sense now that I think about it. Who else had the reason and resources?"

"Hindsight." Bruce said.

"I guess we both grew into something else over the years." he said with a lucid smile. Then his face turned somber.

"I knew I should have killed you that day. Well don't look so surprised kid. What did you expect, for me to weep and beg for mercy? I've had a long time to come to terms with all the evil shit I've done."

Chill laughed again, then coughed violently and spat out some blood.

"For what it's worth, I never did mean to kill them. I fucked up is all. I was scared shitless of your dad. He was a powerful guy in his day."

"I'm touched by your apology." Bruce said flatly.

"Hey, I did you a favor. A billion dollar inheritance and no one to tell you what to do with it."

Joe Chill suddenly found himself laying on his side. Bright spots danced before his eyes and his jaw throbbed painfully. He moaned and spat out 2 shattered molars with a slimy coat of blood and saliva. He blinked the spots away and realised he was crying.

"Please don't... Don't hurt me..."

"Believe me, it's taking every ounce of my energy to stop myself from doing that. Go on with your story. Why him?"

"Yeah.. It was Falcone that hired me... Something about your dad wouldn't play ball with Loeb..." He was fading. Bruce shoved his fingers into the gunshot wounds on his legs, squeezing with all his might. Chill screamed horrifically.

"I haven't given you my permission to die yet. What about Commissioner Loeb?" Bruce asked coldly.

"...f..fff...ff...Fuck you Batman..." Chill keeled over.

Bruce checked his pulse. Nothing.

He rose, pulling on his cowl. He could hear the sirens in the distance. Gordon had waited a little longer to send them after receiving the tip off. He fired a grapnel gun into the ceiling and climbed out through the skylight. His jet appeared within seconds and he hopped in.

He compiled a report of the events in his mind as he punched in the coordinates on the plane's autopilot.

There was a new player in town, meta-human most likely. Buying military grade weaponry, enough for a small army's arsenal. Something big was going down. This would need further investigation. Too bad his best lead was dead.

Oddly, he felt nothing at having met the murderer of his parents. His focus had blurred over the years from a single figure to all criminals. If anything, it felt anticlimactic. He accepted this with his usual stoicism. Even if he had caught him, had him imprisoned, it would have been no comfort. The bigger picture was all that gave him a semblance of purpose, a reason to live, to do what he does.

As he flew off into the night sky, the sirens from the GCPD flashed like neon signs and several cruisers pulled up on the scene.

 **A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Can you believe I haven't watched BvS yet? Too scared it would influence how I write this story. Expect a smattering of updates and then a long period of silence, as per usual. And as always, Read and Review.**


	21. Chapter 21

**6.15PM, Metropolis**

Lex Luthor walked around the massive metallic structure before him, an 8 foot tall robot. It had a vaguely humanoid appearance. The sleek metal was a dull bronze. The face was featureless save for two eyes, which were a dull glassy red. It looked like what it was, an expensive and dangerous android. This was as close to a Terminator as mankind had ever come.

"So it's done?"

"Yes sir. Power core is stable. AI systems are online. Weapons systems fully operational. Conventional weapons consist of wrist mounted energy repulsors that can be adjusted for concussive,electrical or heat energy. The whole thing is powered by nuclear power cells. I've added a few modifications to the AI which I think you will like very much. The android can now replicate natural abilities and metahuman abilities. I call it the A.M.A.Z.O.'

"Amazo?"

"Its the system that gives the android its peripheral abilities. Artificial Metahuman Ability via Zonal Observation. The AI processes all data during combat, adapts to strategy used against it and replicates abilities, metahuman or otherwise, by use of nanobot technology and synthesized Nth metal in the surface plating."

Lex nodded.

"Why does it look so different from the last one?"

"Well sir, thats something new I worked on. We have managed to synthesize some of Nth metals baser qualities using nanotechnology, but its just a start. Nth metal in its natural state resembles polished bronze."

"This is very good work, professor. Revolutionary."

"Thank you sir. Although I do wish I could have done more. I would have liked to go further in unlocking the secrets of Nth metal. I really do believe we've scarcely scratched the surface of its potential. And I'd like to calibrate the system so it can replicate abilities and counter battle strategies just by viewing them. As it is the android has to have direct interaction for the AI to process the information as required."

"All in good time, Ivo."

"I expect you'd like to deploy it immediately?"

"You know me too well. But no, not just yet." Lex said with a small grin.

"As you wish sir." He began fiddling with numerous switches and dials on the control panel before him.

Lex studied the short professor. His red hair was just starting to recede, and there were wrinkles around his eyes and mouth. His fingers hammered away at a keyboard, then he walked across the room to unplug some thick cords, then he went back to the keyboard, then back again to a control panel.

He had built a bigger and better android from scratch within a matter of weeks. Here was a man with drive. The kind of man Lex liked to have in his pocket. There would be great use for people like Ivo in the future.

Ivo flicked a final switch and the dull glassy eyes of the android glowed red like hot coals. It gave the android a much more predatory countenance.

Lex felt a curious fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach. Superman was about to have his reckoning soon.  
After years of convincing the right people,spending millions of dollars,countless hours spent researching,periods of trial and error,of desperation, of stops and starts, the world would finally see that he was a false god, that he was not the great hero they thought he was.  
He would finally get rid of him.

Lex felt something else too. He couldn't place it. He couldn't shake it. Couldn't shake the feeling that this, whatever this moment in time was, was going to change everything. He didn't know what 'everything' meant,he only knew it felt like he was witness to history in the making.

As he watched the hatch in the ceiling open and the android fly out into the blood red skies streaked with clouds of orange,he was as sure of this feeling as he had been the day the world met Superman. The dawn of a new age, and he was determined to be a part of it.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

'Momento mori.' He said quietly.

*************************************************************************************************************************************  
 **A/N: Momento Mori simply means "remember that you will die", which I think is the perfect embodiment of guys like Lex. Always looking to outdo themselves, hoping their name goes down in the annals of history.**  
 **One of the lines from the Ballad of the Frogman(better known as 'that poem Shane recites in Lone Survivor') that really resonates with me is "Anything in life worth doing is worth overdoing. Moderation is for cowards."**

 **Batman follows this rule and turns it up to 11. Lex follows it too, although his motivations are more self-serving when compared to Bruce's more noble(if a little insane)motivations.**

 **I picked Bruce and Lex to be the one's who experience and share this premonitory feeling for a reason. They're both human, and they're two of the smartest people in the DCU, although I've always felt that when it comes to raw intellect, Lex is smarter but Bruce knows more. It's kind of like Lex is a really sharp knife, but Bruce is a Swiss Army knife. Now sure, a sharp knife might be better for you in some situations. If you're say, fighting a bear, but in comic books we've seen who wins time and time again... Versatility done right kicks sheer ability/force in the balls everytime.**

 **Anyway, regardless of what you think, you've got to admit that these two are perhaps DC's greatest (human) chessmasters. Before they do anything they always consider the long-term effects.**  
 **If anyone is going to foresee the much deeper ramifications of Metahuman activity on Earth besides property damage,cheesy codenames and colorful costumes, its these two guys.**

 **Also, I couldn't find anything on the abbreviation for A.M.A.Z.O, but I just couldn't leave it like that. Sorry if its too cheesy.**


	22. Chapter 22

**11.25AM, Washington DC**

Steve and Diana were seated in his car, an all black government issue Lincoln Navigator,slowly crawling through traffic.  
They were on their way to a Very Important Meeting, as Steve had put it. Because this is as official as it was ever going to get, Steve was wearing his complete Air Force service dress uniform. His normally unkempt blonde hair had been trimmed and combed back neatly, and he had shaved his customary 3 day stubble. The whole look gave him a dignified air. At the coffee shop on the way here everyone had moved out of the way once they saw him. Many people thanked him for his service. Even the cashier had shamelessly flirted with him, writing her number on his coffee cup and slipping him an extra muffin. She now understood what mortal women said about 'men in uniform'.  
Diana thought he looked rather dashing.

For her part she wore a simple black dress. She hoped it wasn't too severe. She was still trying to learn how to dress for different occasions. She fidgeted with the brooch on her dress. As if sensing her discomfort, Steve glanced at her and said,

"You look great by the way. You'll knock 'em dead."

"Are you sure? Black is not too... sombre? Too dull?"

"Nothing could look dull on you." he found himself saying before he could stop. Diana blushed and looked down at her hands.

Way to make it awkward Trevor. Gotta defuse it.

He cleared his throat.

"So, how was work yesterday?"

"Ugh... its terrible. Yesterday I had to talk to these representatives from Nike, they want me to endorse their shoes, I told them I can't do that..."

Bingo. Ask about their day at work. That always got them talking. Shutting them up was the hard part. Did I water my house plants before I left the house this morning? I don't think so... I don't even remember checking on them.. Actually, when is the last time I even spent the night at my place? I can't remember... I thought I left active duty to be at home more often. The irony. I should apply for leave sometime soon. Yeah right, like I'll ever get it. At least my pay grade has gone up now I'm a Colonel. Maybe I can finally buy that place in Cali. I think Diana's talking to me...

"Don't you think so Steve?"

"Oh yeah. Totally unethical. I mean, its not like you're an athlete or something. I don't even know what the ramifications of that would be. But you know what? You could endorse them and then donate all the proceeds to charity."

"I was talking about buying a motorbike."

"No you weren't." He said with a smug smile.

"Ok, so I wasn't. I thought you weren't listening to me, that's all."

"I wasn't. An old trick I picked up as a pilot. Disassociating. Absorbing information without consciously paying attention. It helped when monitoring the instruments and processing Intel on long haul flights. Especially when I had taken go-pills."

She punched his arm.

"Ow! Damn Diana! I think you broke it!." He yelled, grabbing at his arm.

"Oh god! I'm so sorry Steve! I didn't mean to, I swear I-" She was interrupted by Steve's loud laughter.

"Asshole!" She screamed, before storming out of the car and slamming the door. The windshield cracked and the door dented slightly. The car was rocked by the force of the blow.

'Jesus, its like courting a teenager. It was just a small prank. Or am I just too old? Maybe I am too old.' His musings were cut short by Diana, who returned just as quickly as she had left.  
The occupants of the car on his left watched his vehicle with bemused expressions on their faces. He was grateful for the heavily tinted windows of his car.

"Um, what was all that about?"

"Nothing."

"Really? Because the first thing men learn after putting down the toilet seat is that nothing means something."

"Nothing!-this time almost everyone in their cars turned to face Steve's vehicle- "Is wrong." she finished in a quieter tone.

"All right. I guess you'll tell me when you're ready." He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He guessed from her explosive reaction he had touched on something from her past. It was an immature joke, he realized.

"Uh, sorry about that. It was childish."

Silence.

"Sorry about your car." she mumbled after some time.

"Don't worry about it." He glanced at his black Aviator watch. They were running late. He flicked a switch beside the steering wheel, activating the sirens in the grille of the Navigator. He drove quickly, taking full advantage of the sirens. He glanced at the dash. The needle was a little too close to the bottom of the dial. He glanced at Diana. Most women would be horrified at the speeds they were going. She looked...excited. Go figure.

The car pulled up with a screech at a side entrance of a thin black gate. It was only as they drove in at a leisurely pace that Diana realized why it was a Very Important Meeting. She turned to Steve.

"You could have told me this is where we were going."

"What, and ruin the surprise?" he said with a boyish grin.

"Colonel, Princess, this way please." A Secret Service guard who came to meet them said by way of greeting. Steve handed the keys to the man, who didn't even raise an eyebrow at the dented door and cracked windshield. They were subjected to various searches before they went in to the building proper.

"I hope you don't mind." Steve said as they approached their 3rd security checkpoint.

"Not at all. On Themyscira it is not uncommon for outsiders to be stripped completely before entering the Royal Chambers."

"This way sir, ma'am." said another nondescript agent, leading them to a foyer. The walls had several paintings, some of which looked to be several centuries old to Diana's practiced eye. They sat here for nearly an hour in nervous silence before they were finally cleared to proceed into an inner room.

"Princess Diana. Welcome to the White House. I'm sorry you had to wait so long. We were just finishing off our little meeting. Pains of ruling a nation. You understand."

"Completely. I'm honored to meet you Mr President."

"Likewise your highness. Captain Trevor." He held out a hand, observing the extra stripe on his uniform. "Oh, its Colonel now actually. How are you?"

"I-I'm great. Sir. Mr President. Sir." Steve said as he shook his hand, dumbfounded that the President knew his name. He snapped to attention when he spotted the senior military officers in the room.

"At ease, no need for those trivialities here. You know these men I'm sure. Admiral Magnus Simpson, US Navy." First Steve, then Diana shook hands with the man. He had silver hair and crows feet around his mouth and eyes from smiling so much. He looked like someone's dad as he smiled at Diana,but lurking behind the friendly countenance was a steel she had seen many times in the eyes of her sisters. He had a very firm handshake and an alertness to his movements uncommon in a man his age. Because it was summer he was dressed in white. His uniform was impeccable, not a single wrinkle or stain on it, and the bronze buttons gleamed as though polished. He was decorated with the most medals and epaulettes of all the men in the room,testament to his battle prowess. Above all the medals was a single gold trident depicting a globe and an anchor with an eagle clutching a flintlock pistol.

"Commandant Francis Bailey, US Marine Corps." He was a huge bear of a man. Chocolate skinned, with a barrel chest and broad shoulders. His hair was clipped short. His uniform was a dark brown. The two took turns shaking his massive paw. "Firm handshake. For a Princess." He commented jokingly after Diana shook his hand. She smiled politely.

"This man needs no introduction to Colonel Trevor. General Joseph Dunford, US Air Force."He looked very aristocratic. Tall and wiry with a well groomed mustache that was slightly grey at the edges. He looked to be the youngest of the Generals, which wasn't saying much. His dark blue uniform was much like Steve's, except that it was much more embellished. "Colonel. Princess." Was all he said.

"And last but certainly not least, General Samuel Lane, US Army." He was a portly man with a pear shaped face and iron grey hair. His uniform was olive colored and though he also wore medals, his dress was fairly spartan in appearance save for the stars on his shoulders. He shook Steve's hand stiffly, crushing it in his grip. Steve's smiling face betrayed nothing. He tried the same with Diana, and the smug expression on his face disappeared almost immediately upon making contact. Diana held on for a few more seconds, pumping slowly before releasing his hand. He gasped as he wiggled his fingers awkwardly, his face pale. The other men smiled knowingly.

"So, to what do we owe the pleasure, lady and gentleman?" The President asked as he motioned all into their seats. Diana took note of the guards stationed around the room, like sentinels in their black suits and dark glasses they stood unmoving. Until one popped a stick of gum into his mouth. A secretary came in carrying a tray with coffee.

Diana spooned several heaps of sugar into the mug and added copious amounts of milk and cream, then she picked up a bagel and slathered it in butter before taking a hearty bite. The coffee and muffins she had had earlier had been burned out of her system pretty fast. She realized all the men were watching her. She paused.

"Forgive us Princess. It's refreshing to see a woman actually...eat." Said Commandant Bailey.

"Well sir, to answer your question, its a request. You know about our project. We'd like to speed it up. An official launching of the Justice League of America."

Diana almost spurted the sweet coffee through her nose. She glared at Steve. He hadn't said anything about that the whole way here, and now he just sprung it on her like that. His face remained serious but his eyes twinkled with humor. She had suddenly lost her appetite, no small feat for Diana.

"What exactly does that entail Colonel?"

"Well sir,we need assurance that all League members, those currently in the roster and any that we may recruit in the future, will not be hounded by any branch of the Police. Or the military." Here he glanced at Lane meaningfully.

"And how do we know you won't turn around and enslave us all?"he barked. His question was directed more towards Diana.

"General Lane."

"Yes sir Mr President?"

"I'm not sure I like your tone. You may not like them, but the Princess and Colonel are guests of the White House. She is royalty and a foreign dignitary, he is a decorated veteran. You will treat them with the same respect you would treat any others in their station."

"Yes sir." Lane said with a tone of embarrassed deference.

There was no mistaking the authority in the rich baritone of the President. Though he was much younger than the assembled men, wore no military dress and probably weighed less than she ate in a day, Diana could see clearly that he was in charge here. A stark difference from home, where even her mother, the Queen, had been an experienced soldier long before she became a politician.

"Forgive my colleague's brusqueness, Princess Diana."said Admiral Simpson with a hard edge in his voice. He glared at Lane with a raging fire in his eyes. Lane shrank into his seat ever so slightly.  
"What he means is, what are your intentions, should you be given Carte Blanche?" he asked.

Diana cleared her throat nervously. Steve had told her nothing at all to prepare her for this, and she found herself blank. She would have to, as they said, 'wing it'.

"Take your time miss." Admiral Simpson said gently, with an understanding smile. There was the dad again.

She glanced at Steve, who was sitting right next to her. He squeezed her hand reassuringly. The movement did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room. The men all shared a quick, knowing look, so brief neither Steve nor Diana took note of it.

"My intentions are noble, I assure you. I am an ambassador of peace, that is all I wish."

"You wish to spread peace through violence?" General Dunford asked skeptically.

"If it is necessary, yes. It would not be wanton violence of course."

"Of course." General Lane mumbled with ill-concealed sarcasm. This time Commandant Bailey glared at him, and the General busied himself staring at the patterns on the carpet.

"Surely you of all people can understand that sometimes peace is forged through conflict." Diana continued.

All the men nodded sagely.

"That may be so," General Dunford interjected, "but we follow rules. A system. The people elect the politicians, the politicians set the policy, and we formulate and follow orders based on those policies. The same cannot be said of you, or any other metahumans for that matter."

Again the men nodded.

"That is true. But I can promise you this, to an Amazon, all life is sacred, even that of a criminal. I will not take a life without just cause."

"Therein lies the problem. Who decides what is a just cause? And where does it start and stop?" asked Commandant Bailey.

Steve cleared his throat. The attention shifted to him.

"That's where I come in, sirs. As government liaison to the Justice League of America, I would act as a middleman to both worlds. Any misgivings you have would be relayed to them through me and vice versa."

General Dunford chuckled.  
"You know Trevor, I knew your mother. She came in to the Air Force 21 years old. By the time she graduated she was one hell of a pilot. Could fly an F-16 blindfolded, with both arms tied behind her back. She probably never told you this, but she had originally tried to join the Army as a SOAR pilot before she joined the Force. But this was long before GI Jane, back when women in the military were stuck in administrative positions. No way they were going to let one so much as try to become a Night Stalker. When you came in, 18 years old and thin as cheese wire,somehow I knew you would be just like her. And you were, for the most part. You had a promising career ahead of you with Team 7. I guess I just never figured you for the pen pushing type. You sure this is what you want?"

Steve smiled, placing a hand on the medals of his uniform.  
"Well sir, I think I've seen just about enough action to last me a lifetime. It's the Chair Force from here on out. So yes, this is what I want."

"I still don't think this is a good idea. You people probably caused about a billion dollars worth of property damage these past few years. And your people might be able to vouch for you Princess, but what about Superman? Are you planning on recruiting him? He's an alien. Maybe more of them are out there, just waiting to colonize this place. Then there's that Bat-character, and countless other freaks. How are we supposed to trust them?" Lane grumbled.

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but Diana raised her hand.

"If I may." She said.

"By all means." Steve said.

"Metahuman incidents increase in frequency around the globe with each passing day. Not all of those metahumans that emerge will be a force for good, just as not all humans are a force for good. I too was against the idea of such a team, albeit for reasons far different from yours, but over time I have come to see the necessity of it. You know and I know that none of us can do this alone. Even with all your vast resources you would be hard pressed to manage the ever-growing metahuman problem. Eventually, you would be overstretched. The primary goal of a military is to defend its host nation from hostiles, wherever they may be. Your military is currently engaged in various places around the world doing just that, in varying degrees of success and intensity. You cannot do that and handle the metahuman threat at the same time. As for trust, I will let our actions speak for us. All of you are experienced warriors. You have studied us, of that I am certain.  
You know that if it really came down to it, you would not stand a chance. You know that if Superman, or I,or any of the other powerful metahumans on this planet wanted to kill you, we could, with frightening ease. Superman alone could easily lay waste to the entire military force of this nation in a matter of hours, to say nothing of what I could do with Olympian weaponry, magic, an army of immortal Amazon warriors and the wrath of the entire Greek Pantheon. And that does not even take into account the millions of metahumans around the world,who only grow in number with time. Why do you think we have not done that? United and risen up against you? Do you think it is because we fear you?"

The men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The Secret Service agent stopped chewing his gum.

"We do not do so because we do not want to do so. We have no interest in world domination. We have no interest in the subjugation of mankind. Most of us just want to lead normal lives. Many more view their abilities as a burden, not a thing to be abused. Being powerful does not make us evil. If that were the case, you would be one of the most evil nations on the planet. Indeed there are many who view you in that light, just as there are many that view us in that light. I do not ask for you to trust us blindly. That would be foolishness. I only ask that you judge us, and the others that may come after us,by the merit of our deeds. Judge us by what we do, not what you fear we will do. This is our home too. Human,metahuman,demigod and alien alike. We are not about to go anywhere, so you had better get used to us. And with all due respect, your Military causes just as much, if not more, collateral damage as 'we' do. So I'd say 'we' probably caused about 500 million dollars worth of property damage these past few years. The other half is on you."

There was a terse silence. Steve was getting ready to prostrate himself and beg for mercy. With any luck they wouldn't get locked up in a deep dark hole for what amounted to threatening the heads of the armed forces and the head of state.

Then the President smiled. Commandant Bailey laughed outright. Admiral Simpson and General Dunford grinned. Even the normally stoic Secret Service agents afforded shadows of a smile. Only Sam Lane remained stone-faced.

"Well damn! I don't know about you, but she's got my vote. This lady has got some ovaries gentlemen. I'd like to see anyone else walk into the Oval Office and give it to us straight like she just did, royalty or not. I think it's high time we had such people on our side. I for one am tired of these mealy-mouthed, politically correct, think-tank types whose only experience of anything comes from reading a book."

"You can count on my vote too. Admiral?" Said General Dunford.

"Well, we don't vote in the Navy, I'll do whatever my Commander"-he motioned to the President-"tells me to. But for what its worth, you have my support."

"That leaves you, Lane. Yes or no?"

Lane grumbled for some time, then mumbled a feeble "Yes."

The President finally spoke. "Then it's decided. The Justice League of America is green lighted. We'll let you know when the official launch will take place, but as of now, you're free to operate without any interference from any armed forces, including the Police. We'll also contact all friendly nations and relay the message."

"Thank you Mr President, and thank you sirs." Steve said. He couldn't believe that had worked. For all her denial of it, Diana was a damn good politician. Everyone rose. Diana looked in the faces of each of the men as she shook their hands. Sam Lane avoided eye contact.

As they left, Steve was called back.

"Colonel Trevor, a word." said Admiral Simpson.

Diana paused at the door.

"It's all right, just some inter-service gossip. Nothing important." General Dunford said.

She smiled and nodded, before leaving the room under the escort of the Secret Service guards.

Commandant Bailey turned to Steve, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"I hope you understand the implications of what you're doing Colonel."

"...Sir?"

"She's a gorgeous woman Trevor. Prettiest I've ever laid eyes on. Don't tell my wife that. She's smart too. And feisty. I get it, really I do. You're a big boy, we can't tell you what to do. God knows that never worked on you before, if the stories General Dunford tells me are anything to go by. So we won't hold it against you. I just want to make this clear, if and when this... whatever it is you two are doing goes south, we can't have a diplomatic mess on our hands, understood? I have visions of lightning bolts raining down from the sky and invasions by angry Amazon warriors, and I do not need that on my record in my last term of office. We'll still need you two to act professionally at all times. That starts right now. Public displays of affection are an absolute no-no. We don't want this on TMZ or some such rag." said the President.

Steve blushed to the roots of his hair as he struggled to formulate a coherent response.

"Oh come on Trevor. We're old, not blind. Understood?" Lane asked.

"Good. Dismissed." said General Dunford.

Steve walked out of the room numbly, to find Diana waiting for him in the foyer. They fell into step together.

"Well. I think that went well."

"You really think so? Because the next time you spring something like that on me I will eviscerate you Steve!" she hissed.

"I know so. They loved you. And stop acting angry. We both know you wanted this, you just needed the push. I mean you absolutely killed it in there! If that was you spit balling, I'd like to see what you're like with prep time. You were born to lead Diana, whether you admit it or not."

"Not all of them loved me."she said, avoiding his latter statements completely. He didn't push her. This was progress enough.

"Don't mind Lane. He hates meta's, specifically Superman. Wait, did you say 'spring'? You're learning our slang pretty fast."

"Its not that hard to fathom. That was not what I expected."

"How so?"

"On Themyscira, meeting a ruler is no easy task. There is much ceremony involved. Even I cannot simply walk into my mother's quarters, though I am the Princess."

"Oh, this wasn't easy Diana. I had to pull every string and call in every favor to get that meeting. So what did you think of them?" He asked as he paused to sign them out at the front desk.

"General Lane I didn't like so much. Too much posturing. I'm indifferent about General Dunford. Admiral Simpson and Commandant Bailey were nice. Both respectable and courteous. They strike me as hardened warriors. I think General Phillipus would have liked them very much. Such a shame they're male."

"Funny you should say that about them, because those two are living legends. Admiral Simpson was a SEAL in Vietnam, way back before it was cool to be one. He was also Commander of Naval Special Warfare for a while. He's a tough SOB, got 2 Purple Hearts, 3 bronze stars, 2 silver stars, a Navy Cross AND a Medal of Honor. And those are just the big ones. As much as it pains me to say it, Commandant Bailey is a tough SOB too. He was with Force Recon in Beirut, also back when it wasn't cool to be a Marine. He got 2 silver stars, 2 bronze stars and a Purple Heart. He's actually one of the guys that formed MARSOC. I won't even get into how they earned those awards because those tales would fill up a book the size of a dictionary. So yeah, I'd rather get dumped in the jungle Bear Grylls style than fight with either of those men."

"Why does it pain you to say that? And what is an SOB?"

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but they were interrupted by a voice behind them.

"SOB means Son-of-a-Bitch, Princess, if you'll please excuse my french. As for the other thing, the Air Force and Marines don't exactly get along. You see they're jealous because we are the premier elite fighting force."

"Please Bailey. You damned Leathernecks don't get along with anyone. Elite fighting force my ass. One SEAL platoon would have finished the job in Beirut within a month." Said another voice, but the tone was that of a well worn inside joke, there was no real malice in the words. Both Steve and Diana turned to find Admiral Simpson and Commandant Bailey standing behind them.

"Uh..uh.. I didn't see you there sirs.." Steve stuttered nervously.

"You don't say? Relax Colonel Trevor, your secrets are safe with me." said Admiral Simpson with a wink. "Princess." He said with a nod before wearing his hat and marching out.

"And me." Commandant Bailey added. He slapped him on the back, hard. Steve winced. "You just keep stepping right in it, eh Trevor? Pleasure to meet you Princess. You have our total support."

"Thank you Commandant Bailey. Please, call me Diana. That title feels so serious."

"Ma'am, my mother would jump out of her grave and slap me into next week if I ever addressed a Princess by her first name." He said as he picked up his wide brim hat from the table and walked out. Steve sighed with relief.

"Lets get out of here before I do something really stupid."

"Steve?"

"Mhmmm?"

"What is Berr Grells?" Her tongue struggled to pronounce the odd name. Steve chuckled. Even her ignorance was endearing.

"Not, what, who. Bear Grylls is a man. Ex military, SAS I think. He's a survival expert of sorts. We'll watch an episode of his show, you'll see. But hardly anyone watches him anymore. Everyone watches Naked and Afraid now."

"Oh. Steve?"

"Yes Diana?"

"You never told me what awards you won."

"...uh?"

"You've never told me. I always hear you're a war hero,a 'decorated veteran'. But you've never actually told me what awards you won or why you won them."

"Well... I don't really talk about it."

"I know. That's what I'm saying."

He was silent for a few steps.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes."

Time to step off of that cliff, he thought.

"How about I tell you over dinner sometime?"

"Aren't you worried about the diplomatic mess that might ensue? Or that TMZ will hear about it?"

Once again Steve blushed crimson to the roots of his hair and was rendered speechless.

Diana laughed all the way to the car.

As he passed by the expressionless Secret Service agent at the front desk, he was hit by a twin realization:She had excellent hearing, and she hadn't said no.

 **A/N: I hope I got all the military titles, uniforms and descriptions right. I'm a stickler for detail when it comes to real world stuff. Read and Review brethren.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I just checked my followers today, and can I just say holy crap. There are some legends there! These are people who's stories I read and reread, often thinking to myself, 'how the hell do you even'. I'm sure a lot of you, readers and writers alike, have seen traces of their influence on my writing style. I'm not going to pretend everything on here is some purely original thought,because it's not. I believe you have to give respect to those that came before you.  
It's a huge honor to be followed by you, and by everyone else for that matter. I don't want to name names because its always awkward leaving some people out, but like I said, I'm sure everyone can see your influence on my work; and honestly the different ficwriters styles and ideas have blended so much in my mind over the years that its hard to tell what came from whom exactly.  
So thanks. Enough gushing. Here's the story.**

*****************************************************************************************************************************  
 **9.57PM, Washington D.C.**

"This is where you chose to take me? It doesn't even have a name." Diana said as she passed Steve the helmet.

"Yeah it does, it just doesn't have a big neon sign flashing it. It's called Maverick's. What, you think I was going to take you to some fancy restaurant someplace? In bike leathers? They wouldn't let us in. Besides, that's exactly where you go when you want to get hounded by the media. Dives like this, most people don't even know they exist."

He walked over to the door and held it open with an outstretched hand.

"After you Princess." She stepped in and he followed suit.

"You don't like it?"He asked with mild concern.

"I like it. It is a welcome break from the sterile, brightly lit restaurants I have been going to ever since I got here. And I'm glad to be wearing something other than an evening gown. How did you learn of this place?"

"It's a very popular hang out for military types. These types of bars started after the Vietnamese and Cold wars. Most veterans couldn't have a drink in peace without being insulted or bugged with endless questions,so they opened their own bars, and they only admitted men and women who were either in the military or were still serving. This one was opened in the late 80's. These days a lot of Special Forces types hang out at these spots because of the discretion. There's a ton of places like this around the country. Hundreds more around the world. But this is my favorite spot."

"May I ask why?"

"Well, I could say its because this particular bar is frequented largely by Air Force servicemen. But really its because they have some of the tastiest, greasiest food I've ever eaten."

Diana surveyed their surroundings. The room was filled almost exclusively with men, and most of them wore some variation of personalized leather bomber jacket similar to Steve's. Many of them had dog tags displayed prominently about their necks. A lot of them were fairly pedestrian in appearance, not what one would expect hardened veterans to look like. But for every 'normal' looking veteran; there was a muscle bound,scarred, tattooed,bearded gung-ho Commando type.

The walls were lined with numerous photographs and plaques of fallen soldiers,alongside banners,crests and group shots from various sports teams and military regiments. Behind the bar, above the extensive drinks cabinet that was stocked with all manner of exotic liqours, was a Winchester rifle. Across the room there were more guns from every age mounted on the wall. Some were antique muskets and flintlock pistols with ornately engraved iron stocks. Others were sniper and assault rifles with laser sights,scopes,rails and hand guards that even Diana's untrained eyes recognized as sophisticated modern weapons. Almost all of the furniture was bolted down, which said a lot about the kind of people that frequented Maverick's.

Steve scanned the crowd out of habit, spotting a familiar face.

"Hold on, I think I know that guy. Excuse me, do I know you?"

The man was also wearing a leather bomber jacket. He was roughly Steve's height but he had a slightly leaner build and his hair was dark brown. He didn't even bother turning away from the woman he was speaking to.

"I doubt it pal." He continued talking to the woman, who giggled.

"You sure? You seem really familiar."

"Look man, I'm just trying to have a good time here-" the man began in a somewhat irritated tone as he turned to face Steve.

Then he stopped. He looked a little shocked. He glanced at Diana and his brown eyes widened considerably.

"Excuse me. I need to...use the little boys room." The man quickly rose from his seat and went towards the bathroom. The lady at the bar gave Steve and Diana a dirty look before moving away from them.

"Well, that was odd." Steve commented as they settled into their booth.

"I think he recognized me." Diana said worriedly.

"It's fine. These guys can keep their mouths shut. Didn't you find that odd?"

"Perhaps he was just nervous."

"Yeah..." He didn't sound convinced at all.

"Perhaps he is one of those fake soldiers you told me about. The ones that hang out at bars to get free drinks and pity pussy."

"In this place? They'd clock a civilian in zero seconds flat. And how would a civilian find this place anyway? Wait, did you say pity pussy? I don't remember using those words. You probably shouldn't use that in public. Or ever. Where did you learn that anyway?"

"Television. Technically I am a civilian too Steve, and I know this bar."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But still..."

"Enough! Let us eat. I am ravenous."

He shook his head as one who was clearing a fog from his mind.  
"You're always ravenous. So, what'll you have?" He asked as he picked up his menu. A matronly looking waitress with her hair tied in a bun approached them.

Diana studied her options.

"What is the Eggscellent Challenge?"

"A 12 egg omelette with cheese,eggs,peppers,tomatoes and ham, served with a large steak,biscuits,onion rings,and a bowl of chilli cheese fries. It has to be finished in under an hour." said the waitress.

"I think I'll have that. And the largest pitcher of beer to wash it down." The waitress raised an eyebrow skeptically but said nothing, obviously doubting that a petite woman like Diana could put away so much.

"I'll have the steak with chilli cheese fries, and a bottle of Bud Light."

"Coming right up."

"Do I get a prize if I finish it?" Diana asked Steve.

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out. No one's ever finished it before."

"So."

"So?"

"Well, get on with the story!"

"Jeez Diana. Ever heard of foreplay?"

"There's a time and place for that. We're here, lets do what we came here to do."

"Wow. Ok. Where do I start?"

"At the very beginning."

"Well, I was literally raised in the cockpit. My mom signed up at 23 actually, but we can forgive General Dunford for telling a little white lie. Anyway, because of the nature of her work we travelled around a lot from base to base. It was an interesting, if fragmented life. Went to a lot of places. Somehow she was always stationed at the best bases, I think she knew someone on the inside. I lived in Germany,Hawaii, Italy and even Hungary. I never got to keep friends for more than a few years, so I became something of a loner. I spent a lot of time with the mechanics,engineers and maintenance men whenever they were fixing, building or modifying things. It was all very interesting to me. By the time I was 14 I could strip and reassemble most small aircraft engines with little assistance. My mom, thank god, recognized my interest, and whenever she wasn't out flying, she would teach me everything she could about piloting."

The waitress returned with the pitcher of beer, two mugs, and Steve's beer.

"You'd better not try to drink this young lady under the table Trevor." She said as she waggled her finger at him.

"I wouldn't dream of it Patricia." Steve said with a smile.

"Good. Your meals will be ready soon."

"Thank you." Diana said.

"Where was I? Oh yeah. So she would teach me about piloting. When I was 15,she taught me how to drive. I flew my first craft, a Littlebird, around the base a few months later. Mom got in a lot of trouble for that." He smiled bashfully at the memory. "When I turned 16, I discovered girls. Started hanging out with the wrong kind of people. We kind of drifted apart. Basically I got stupid as teenagers do. My mom had me when she was pretty young, so that didn't help things at all. I used to think she resented me for holding her back somehow. I realize now that was never the case. But no matter how bad our relationship got, we always shared a love for the skies. That never changed."

He paused and took a sip of his beer.

"My mom disappeared a few years later, just before my 18th birthday. Her jet just...went off the radar. She was assumed KIA after a while, which means killed in action. You'll notice I don't talk about my father. Never knew the guy. Don't really want to. I don't even know if he's still alive. Anyway, I enlisted immediately after I got back from the memorial."

The waitress appeared with their food. She sensed the tension in the air and departed quickly without a word.

Diana dug into the food right away, as did Steve. Both saw no need to speak. They ate in silence for a long while. When Steve was finished and looked up all that was left of Diana's steak was the bone, and the omelette was gone, as were the bacon rashers. It was like she inhaled her food. He looked at her face. Not a stain on it. He wondered if all of that was going to come out of the other end. It was a thought that he banished from his mind immediately. No man wants to visualize the woman he is courting taking a massive shit.

"How?"

She smiled with her mouth full,swallowed and dabbed at her mouth with a paper towel before answering.

"Well, this is only a theory, but... I have observed that Amazons are several times stronger and faster than humans, and our stamina and durability is much higher as well. As a result of that we have rapid metabolisms. So rapid we do not even produce waste. The...egestion of waste was one of the biggest surprises I encountered when I first came to Man's World. Because of my Olympian heritage I do not actually need sustenance, but growing up on Themyscira I learned to love food."

"Oh."

I won't have to worry about any awkward bathroom moments. I wonder if she... No, I don't think I can EVER ask her that.

"So your powers are unique to you?"

"Yes. As far as I know no one else on Themyscira is as strong as I am, or capable of independent flight. No one else had senses as keen as mine either. They used to say my hearing was better than that of a wolf, my sight better than that of an eagle, and my sense of smell sharper than that of a Themysciran Hunting Hound. But whether my abilities are merely an amplification of my Amazonian physiology by my Olympian heritage or a manifestation of Olympian abilities all by themselves I do not know. It is all magic based, that is the only thing I am sure of. Anyway, this evening is not about me. Please continue with your story. I am interested in learning how you received your accolades. Back home there is no such thing as a medal for valor in combat. Every Amazon is expected to give her all and then some."

"Right. So I enlisted at 18. Or rather I tried to. I had to go back and get a college degree. No one tells you these things, y'know? This was way before . General Dunford skimmed over that embarrassing detail in his little Oval Office speech as well. The man should have been a politician, I don't know why he joined the military. Anyway, I came back a few years later with a degree and got accepted into the Air Force Academy. I won't bore you with the intricate details of my training, and honestly speaking some of it is classified, but I did graduate after 4 years and finally got to be a pilot. I'll just say that our training isn't quite like yours. There is just as much academic work involved as there is physical and tactical. War has changed a lot since your times, and in some ways it hasn't changed at all. It's still brutal and costly, and peace is always preferable to a period of conflict. The objectives are more or less the same, only the politics and methods change,and even then it's not so different."

He paused to sip from his bottle, and finding it empty, poured himself a mug of beer from Diana's pitcher, which was now half empty.

"You uh, you feeling all right?" He motioned at the pitcher.

"Oh, that is more for the taste than anything else. Although I am regretting it now. No offense, but compared to what we drink back home, American beer tastes like pig's urine. Anyway, your alcohol is like water to me. You should try Bana-Mighdallian mead, brewed by another tribe on Themyscira. It could floor an elephant."

"Our beer tastes like pig's urine compared to yours? Mead that could floor an elephant? All of that sounds a tad exaggerated."

"I shall bring you a bottle of each one day and then we shall see if I am exaggerating."

"You should try absinthe. It's 70 proof."

"Yes. I got a mild buzz from that, but it was not worth it. It tasted foul. The chemical tang is just too sharp. It hurt my tongue and nose."

"Do I even want to know how you got access to absinthe?"

"No, you do not. Go on with your story."

"All right...where was I? Oh yeah, so what really is different is the style of warfare, and the rules of engagement. Modern warfare is so much more complicated. You can't just field 1,000 men against 1,000 enemies in an all out melee battle. It's not as simple as being a good fighter either. There are rules about what we can and cannot do,even in a time of war, despite the fact that the very nature of our work revolves heavily around violence and bloodshed. We are expected to lead, plan, prepare, execute and coordinate complex missions. We're expected to give and receive orders in the field, and we have to adapt to the mission as it changes. Believe me, no mission I ever took part in went according to plan. Pretty much everyone is as competent as you are if not better, and those are just the conventional forces. Special Operators, men like the Admiral and the Commandant, need a whole other level of skill and intelligence,not to mention a very high level of motivation, mental and physical conditioning to perform optimally on such a playing field. I'm not doing this to talk myself up by the way. You need to know all that so you can understand why people get medals for doing what may seem commonplace to you."

"I did not realize the work load was so great. I often wondered why I did not see younger soldiers. But it still does not beat my training. On Themyscira I began training from the age of seven. But I hated the academic classes more than anything." she said as she polished off the last of the onion rings and started on the chilli cheese fries.

"Like the Spartans eh?"

"Please. The Spartans wish they were as tough as the Amazons. And the Spartans never had to sit in a classroom for 10 hours everyday for more than 10 years."

"You sat in class for 10 hours? How did you make time for everything else?"

"The days are much longer on Themyscira, almost 30 hours long in the summer. And who said nightfall meant an end to training? I am sure that was not the case for you."

"No, it wasn't. But 30 hours? Wow. Your body clock must have been wrecked when you came here."

"Yes. Honestly speaking I have never fully adjusted to this time zone."

"So what did you study that you hated so much?"

"What you would call Classics. Mostly ancient texts from scribes of old. Tacitus, Ovid, Homer, Plato, Aristotle, and many more that mankind does not even know exists. I studied everything from the Epic of Gilgamesh to the Iliad. Some things were more recent, by our standards at least."

"Like what?"

"The writings of Niccolo Machiavelli,Leonardo Da Vinci, Confucius, Aesop, Sun Tzu."

Steve laughed.

"What?"

"It's just... you consider Sun Tzu and Machiavelli as recent.. It's an interesting perspective, that's all. Anyway, it doesn't sound that bad."

"I said recent by our standards. And that was just what the 'conventional', if you will, Amazons had studied. As a royal I was expected to know all that and much more. Almost everything really. I studied a lot of world history, mathematics,astronomy,philosophy and sciences. I studied some very basic magic, but I was hopeless at it. I am not as clueless as you might think. It is just that many of your modern terminologies escape me. But I am learning. Anyway, the focus is supposed to be on you Steve."

"This is a date, not a confession. I can't be doing all the talking."

"Fair enough."

"All those writers you named, they were men. I thought Amazons, y'know..."

"Hated men? Yes and no. We take what is useful to us and discard the rest. Literature, medical texts,architectural designs,even cooking recipes. Besides, not all of us are so rigid in our mindsets."

"Good to know. What else did you study?"

"Academic or otherwise?"

"Everything."

"Let's see... Politics, etiquette and diplomacy at the knee of my mother. Martial arts under General Phillipus. Pottery, painting and sculpting from various artisans, although I was quite bad at those, even worse than with magic, and that is really saying something. Art is definitely not my thing. Smelting and weapon forgery from the blacksmiths. Horse-riding,hunting, tracking, land navigation, survival and foraging with the Scouts. Fishing, celestial navigation and swimming with the Beach Guard."

"I must admit, all that put together sounds a lot harder than anything I ever did at the Academy. I was only there for 4 years. It's interesting that the higher the station the more you're expected to know. I don't think any royals around here were learning how to forage for food in the woods at seven years old."

"Yes, but it is a different world out here. Themyscira is a lot like Israel. We must be self sufficient and ready for battle at all times. That necessitates a grueling-some might even say brutal-regimen for all Amazons. Moreso for our leaders. And I found that learning all these trades gave me a greater appreciation for my sisters."

Steve nodded thoughtfully.

"And when you say martial arts, do you mean..."

"No, not that kind. Not for me anyway. There are Amazon scouts that have ventured outside of Themyscira and brought back scrolls on various other fighting styles, some of which are practiced and taught in the military. Jiu Jitsu, Eskrima and Capoeira are quite popular. I however, learned battle tactics and strategy. I studied the lives, philosophies and methods of all the legendary Generals and warriors of old. I learned how to fight with all edged and blunt weapons. I learned how to use spears. I learned archery. For unarmed combat I stuck to the traditional Greco-Roman Pankration. A combination of wrestling and boxing. It was the most effective fighting style for my abilities."

"I imagine there were a lot of broken bones over the years. That's why you got mad and called me an asshole in the car, isn't it?"

"Yes. It was not easy growing up different on Themyscira. I could never tell if they were being nice to me out of fear of my father, a sense of servitude to my mother or a feeling of genuine kinship. Whenever I hurt someone or broke something I felt horribly guilty about it."

"Doesn't Themyscira loosely translate to 'Paradise Island'?"

Diana smiled sadly.

"It is a paradise in the sense that it is free of all artifice. Not a paradise in the sense of a utopia."

"From what you described it seems it wasn't devoid even of that."

"Amazons, for all their wisdom, knowledge and power, are still humans-very old humans-but humans all the same. As they say, to err is human. I would expect even a utopia to have its imperfections, if it was conceived by the minds of humans."

There was silence for a few moments as Diana finished off the rest of her chilli cheese fries. When she looked up Steve was staring at her mystified.

"What is it? Is there something on my face?"

"I feel like I use this word too much with you, but wow."

"Pardon?"

"You have a good head on your shoulders. A lot smarter, more mature and objective than most people double your age. You'll make an excellent leader someday Diana."

"Thank you Steve." she said, her face coloring as she took a sip from her mug.

Just then Patricia came back to clear their plates.

"I expect you'll need a doggy bag..." She trailed off mid-sentence as her eyes fell on Diana's large, empty plate and the empty beer pitcher. Without taking her eyes off of the plate, she called over her shoulder. "Hey Darnell!"

"Yeah!" Came a shout from the kitchen.

"Get the trucker hat!"

There was a loud crash, then a wiry dark skinned man with a hairnet over his massive afro emerged from the kitchen.

"I know you didn't say what I think you just said."

"You heard me. Get the hat."

The cook disapearred back into the depths of the kitchen, where there was a series of clattering sounds.

Diana noticed a hush had fallen over the room, and all eyes were on their booth. The cook returned with an ancient looking box. He opened it, to reveal a tightly wrapped package that he proceeded to peel back tenderly. Inside was a cap, which he passed to the waitress. It was white, with a blue brim and see through netting at the back. The waitress presented it to Diana with an air of reverence.

"Ma'am, in the 30 years this place has been open, no one has ever completed the Eggscellent challenge."

Diana read the words on the hat out loud.

"'I'm Eggscellent'. Ha-ha. I get it."

"Put it on." Steve said. She obliged.

"Say cheese." The cook said. Diana barely had time to smile before the blinding flash.

"This is so going up on the Wall of Fame." He said as he went back into the kitchen.

There was a slow clap. It built up slowly until everyone in the room was clapping,cheering and whistling loudly.

"Eggscellent! Eggscellent! Eggscellent!" They chanted.

Diana found herself being hoisted up onto the shoulders of two burly men and carried around the room. It was certainly in the top ten of the most bizarre moments in her life. She laughed joyfully.  
"All right! All right! We don't want her throwing up all over the place boys! Put her down! Easy now!" Said the waitress.

Steve rose, reaching for his wallet. The waitress stilled him.

"Don't bother Trevor. This one's on the house. As far as I'm concerned you two can eat and drink here at no charge for as long as you live."

"Thanks Patricia." Steve said. He turned to Diana. "I guess we should leave now. It's getting late, and nothing good ever comes from these guys getting excited at this hour."

As they walked out of the bar, the waitress grasped Steve firmly by the arm.

"You hold onto her as long as you can Trevor. I mean it." her eyes were locked on his. He merely nodded, and she released him.

"Are you ok to ride?" Diana asked when he joined her outside.

"Yeah. I'm solid. You need a ride or will you be using... alternative transport methods?"

"I'm fine. Thanks for offering."

"Ok. That was pretty surreal."

"Yes. It certainly was. I had a very good time. And the food was certainly delicious."

"I'm glad to hear it. Sorry I didn't get around to telling you the story. Yours was just so much more interesting."

"It is all right. There is always next time."

"So there will be a next time?"

"If that is what you wish."

"I'd like that very much."

Diana stepped forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"Goodnight Steve." She said as she floated into the air.

"Goodnight Diana." He said. He felt like he was right up there with her. She flew off into the night sky.

After about 5 minutes of flying she heard Steve whooping faintly from somewhere below.

"I'm the luckiest man aliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!" he shouted as the bike engine roared and the tires screeched, the bike tearing down the street.

Diana laughed again.

Silly man, she thought to herself.

 **A/N: Skilgannon, glad you like my characterization. My biggest fear is getting someone totally wrong, for all my bravado about not caring what people think of my characters.**

 **Ironically, I got sucked into Fanfiction mainly because I was so disappointed with how they portrayed many characters in the new crop of DC animated films and comic books. Fanfiction changed all that and introduced me to the possibility of moulding these characters and universes as I'd like them to be,instead of being stuck with how they are being or have been characterized. Flash and Cyborg are the only characters they got right IMO. The rest are horrible.**

 **Green Lantern for example. Sure, a hotshot test pilot is expected to be cocky, but I feel he is portrayed too often as this 'dudebro' character,like a college fratboy with a power ring. Yes, he's a flirt and a thrill seeker, but he was also an Air Force fighter pilot. You have to be pretty intelligent,disciplined and level headed to be entrusted with flying a jet that costs millions of dollars. If he was an immature idiot, would the Guardians really leave someone so unstable with The Most Powerful Weapon In The Universe? Just because he has awesome willpower? Nope. There are billions of humans, millions with insane willpower,hundreds of thousands with the same skill set as Hal Jordan.**

 **The "This Is Bigger Than Us" speech Bruce gave Lantern was extremely Out Of Character. IMO Bruce wouldn't preach his life story to a complete stranger, hero or not,identity known or not, just to make a point. Not even if the world itself was coming to an end. I don't think he'd admit he's only human so easily either,(again) especially not to a stranger,just so he can prove his superiority by distracting him and taking his ring. A hallmark of Batman I've always liked is the mystery surrounding him. People doubt his very existence, and those that don't can only speculate on what he is or does. And while the ring theft was cool, it was dick swinging. That's a Beta Male move. To me, Batman is far too self-assured to do that.**

 **Shazam is even worse. I feel like the writers are so scared of upstaging Superman's place as the 'Big Gun' that they made him too childish to properly wield his abilities other than carelessly shooting bright sparks of lightning.**  
 **While he is a kid in a man's body, I've always felt Shazam has the innocence of a child, not the mentality of one. And Billy Batson doesn't have to be a saint, but a truant,thief and brat? Again, would an ancient and infinitely wise being entrust such a person with such great power?**

 **Clark and Diana became Jock and Cheerleader. In my mind Superman possesses a quiet confidence, but new Superman is Zod-like in his pigheadedness. And Diana is usually brash, yes, but new Diana is spoiled and immature. The whole sword waving and shouting about stuff like a 6 year old who just realized she's cute is very OOC too. Apparently she just 'connected' with Superman because he effortlessly blasted Parademons. Cheerleader sees Quarterback score a touchdown and suddenly they are soul mates. I know they're targeting a younger audience, but my god, no one is that stupid. "It's nice to meet some people that get me." *intense gaze* then "I've *never* met anyone like you Superman." NO. It's all in the build up people, of which there was none. Then by the start of the next film they're dating, because Loneliness=Compatibility. Once again, no build up, just SMASH. It felt like Superman took advantage of how vulnerable she was feeling at the time, which is creepy AF. Do you see the common douche bag theme here with all the males?**

 **Finally the worst, Arthur Curry in Throne of Atlantis. At the start he's just a depressed drunk,then he suddenly gains the necessary skills and confidence to become a king-literally within a few hours-because Destiny, and his mother was killed before he got to know her. At the start he's a messy brawler, but overnight he is transformed into an expert spear-man and unarmed combatant with skill far exceeding that of Orm and the Atlantean soldiers, who have had a lifetime of training and experience. Are we supposed to believe 'its in the blood'? Or that its willpower? Also, how is it that he absolutely flattens his brother-who should be stronger/more powerful by virtue of being FULLY Atlantean AND having royal blood-but struggles with a few normal humans? Being drunk isn't enough to explain it,neither is the 'he killed mommy and I must save the world(1 city in America)' factor. And his 'relationship' with Mera? They must have spoken for a grand total of 10 minutes the entire duration of the film, then at the end,BOOM they kiss and they're in love, together forever they rule Atlantis.**

 **I mean WTF? Is DC staffed by 12 year old boys? I understand they have to squeeze in months of writing into little more than an hour, but even without those glaring inconsistencies, they can do much better. How hard is it to give the illusion of time passing? Or of a relationship developing? The older DCAU films did that quite well I think, but then again, they were fairly longer. Oh well.**

 **I could literally fill a page with criticism, I damn near have, so I'll just stop there.**

 **As always,**  
 **Read and Review.**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: As I said, I'm a stickler for 'real-life' detail. While the 1950's 30 kiloton nuke test did take place in the US, it actually happened at/to the London Silver Vault. But I'd be hard pressed to explain Superman's presence in the UK. He is barely tolerated in the US, I can't have him foiling crimes in other parts of the world. Not yet anyway.**

*****************************************************************************************************************************  
 **12.15PM, Smallville**

Clark's cellphone trilled in the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. He ignored it. The massive steel sheet above him was more important. He welded both ends with his heat vision and cut out a rough shape in the metal. The barn was getting quite warm now. Satisfied with the measurements, he finally answered his battered phone. Maybe Batman could get him an indestructible phone. That would be nice. The screen was cracked, so he couldn't see the caller ID. But he was pretty sure he knew who was calling him.

"It's my day off Lois. This had better be pretty damn good."

On the other end of the line, Lois balked. Clark hardly ever spoke like that. Normally he was extremely slow to anger.

"Smallville, have you seen the news?"

"Pardon?" He asked as he cut another hole into the metal sheet.

"I said have you seen the news?"

"Er.. No."

"Why not?"

"Lois, I'm really busy right now, and I'm kind of far away from my computer and television. Is this important?"

"Important? It's freaking revolutionary. Look, just...switch on your TV when you get to it or something, it's sure to be running there. You do have a TV right?"

"Yes Ma'am, I do has me one o' them Tee-Vees. Jesus Lois, I'm not a fu...reaking hillbilly." He said irritably. He cut off the connection.

12.15PM, Metropolis,Daily Planet Offices

Lois looked down at the screen of her I-phone.

"He hung up on me. Me." she said. The tiniest of smiles was on her face as she said it. "Mmh." Jimmy said, his eyes riveted on the TV screen. Her attention went back to it, just like everyone else in the office.

The television volume was turned up.

 **The White House  
**

"...will be a force to be reckoned with. And now without further ado, allow me to introduce to you the founding members of this team. They are, Captain Atom. Wonder Woman. Black Canary. Green Lantern. Hawkman. Katana. And Catwoman. Do we have any questions?"  
The Chief of Staff asked as he blinked at the blinding flashes from the cameras. There was a flurry of activity and voices.

"Please, one at a time."

"Elise McDowell, Wall Street Journal. Where exactly did you get the members of this team? I mean we've heard of the Princess,but that's the only person we've heard of. Who are these others? At best we've only heard rumors about them. And what's the criteria for recruitment?"

The Chief of Staff was a veteran of the old days, he had been a fixer at the White House for years prior to landing this position,which he had held for nearly 10 years.  
He got here because he was very good at his job. For the first time in his career however, he had no idea how to answer the questions posed to him. He had only learned of the JLA moments before.  
Elise McDowell was a veteran too. A bulldog reporter who had started as a cub reporter at the Boston Globe,making a name for herself over the years.  
Leave it to her to bust his balls with such tough questions.  
But being an experienced man, he maintained a poker face.

Murmurs spread around the room. He would have to think of something, fast.

"Well Elise, that was a lot more than one question." He joked.  
He made eye contact with Diana as the assembled press members laughed. She got the message.  
Thank god at least one of these people was a professional.

"C'mon Henry. You're stalling."

"I am McDowell, you know me too well. I'll let those with better qualifications than I answer those questions."

Diana stepped over to the microphone.  
She wore her Champions armor, despite the White House advisors begging her to cover up. The way she saw it, if people couldn't even look past her clothing, then those weren't people who's opinion she cared for. The Chief of Staff stepped aside with masterfully hidden relief.

"Good afternoon all. I hope you are well. To answer your questions Miss McDowell,the members of the Justice League of America are drawn from various ranks. Some are civilians, some are drawn from the ranks of the military,government and law enforcement agencies. Some, like Hawkman, are alien in nature. We do not discriminate. All those who hear the call and pass our stringent conditions will be allowed to serve on the team. We thought it best to mix and match. Strength in diversity." she smiled a textbook photo smile, and the room exploded with camera flashes as more voices clamoured to have their questions answered.

"Yes, you sir."

"Anderson Mathews, USA Today. How are we supposed to trust aliens on the team? How do we know they won't turn against us?"

"Mr Mathews, I should think that what is good enough for your government is good enough for you. Unless of course, you doubt the wisdom and ability of the very people whom you elected to make these decisions for you."

"I do trust my government. It's the aliens I have difficulty with."

Laughter from the audience.

Under his helmet,Hawkman's jaw clenched tightly. He felt ready to rip the man's head off. Where did he get off asking if they could trust him? How could HE trust them? He didn't ask to be here. If he had his way he'd be back on Thanagar, away from all these bickering humans with their petty concerns. But he could never go back.. Not after what happened. Trust.. what did they know of it? Had they earned HIS trust? His fists clenched so hard the white adhesive tape wrapped around his hand burst at the knuckles. His wings twitched.

"Easy now." Katana whispered beside him, her lips unmoving. She could feel the anger coming off of him like heat from a flame. Hawkman was so surprised she had spoken his rage dissipated immediately. He barely stopped himself from turning his head to face her.

"Mr Mathews, I am no more human than he is, yet you seem to have no problem trusting me. Perhaps it is because he looks so different?"

"Well..."

"In that case I would ask you to remember a very simple phrase often used by humans. 'Don't judge a book by it's cover'."

"With all due respect Princess, that's just too easy."

"Apparently not." More laughter. "Hawkman has been living among you for years now. He chose to do so, as I have. If your first concern whenever you meet someone that looks a little different from you is that he or she will try to exterminate or enslave you, then I think that says more about your ideals as a people-or lack thereof-than anything else."

Mathews knew when he was beaten. He sat down without saying another word. The reporters clamoured for her attention.

"Order please. I can only take a few more questions. Yes, you sir."

A heavily bearded man with incredibly long hair rose from his seat.

"Alan Moore, the Telegraph. As my colleague said earlier, we've only heard rumors about the team members. For example, we've heard that Captain Atom has nuclear based powers. There are fears of him...leaking, for lack of a better word, radioactive energy."

To his credit, Captain Atom remained impassive, like a chrome statue with his hands clasped behind his back in a classic military pose. There was a brief pause. The very air seemed to buzz with anticipation.

"I did not hear a question." Diana said plainly. More laughter,but it was uneasy. The press could see that despite her youth and physical appearance this was not someone they would easily bait. The Chief of Staff smiled.

"Fair enough. Frankly speaking, many around the world are worried about the effects of a walking nuclear reactor. We don't want another Chernobyl, you see. What guarantee do we have that his abilities aren't harmful to..." he searched in vain for the right words.

"Normal people?" Diana finished sternly.

"Well...er...yes."

There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

Someone coughed.

A chair scraped.

A message tone pinged.

Diana let it drag for a second or two longer.

"Mr..."

"Moore."

"Mr Moore. Captain Atom has been working with scientists from the US Military division DARPA for several years now, studying the range and effects of his abilities to their absolute limits. So far they have concluded that his energy is well contained within him, so I would not worry about any 'leakage'. I can give you no guarantees because there is no such thing as a sure thing, but his abilities are not harmful to 'normal' people. No more harmful than the batteries in your cell phones, the waste dumped in your oceans, the fumes from your vehicles or the sugar in your tea. Does that answer your question?"

The implication was clear. People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

"...Yes. Yes it does." Moore replied. She smiled again, but it was a cold smile. This time no one laughed, or took photos.

"Anyone else?" it sounded more like a challenge than an invitation.

Silence. No one wanted to get whipped. Much less on live television.

 **Daily Planet Offices**

"Oh, she's good. I think Washington is going to like her very much." Lois commented.

"Sshh!"

 **The White House**

One man rose from his seat.

He was elderly, certainly the oldest, most experienced journalist there.  
He had worked for the Chicago Tribune and New York Times, and now he was with Associated Press.

"Jules Slater, AFP. I can't believe no one has asked this yet. Are you going to recruit Superman?"

Here Diana smiled her first genuine smile of the briefing.

"We will recruit anyone who wishes to join us."

"Even Superman?" He pressed.

"Even Superman." she repeated.

There was silence for a second, only a second, before all hell broke loose.  
Voices ran over each other like a waterfall as everyone fired off their questions. Diana was a little taken aback. The Chief of Staff stepped in to cut them off.

"Thank you, that'll be all for today. We are very busy here at the White House as I'm sure you can imagine. Have a good afternoon."

 **Daily Planet Offices**

The TV screens went mute as the footage continued to play out. Perry White walked slowly into the center of the room, holding the universal remote. He stood silently for a long time, ensuring he had everyone's undivided attention.

"I'm not going to give you a rousing speech, god knows that's not my style. I don't think I have to tell you what this means either. If you still need that at this stage then you're in the wrong line of work. Get cracking. Now." He walked back into his office as everyone in the room rushed to their work-stations.

"We're witnessing the birth of a new world order Carrot Top. This changes everything. Everything Jimmy."

"It sure does. I wonder if Superman'll join them."

"Somehow I don't think he'll have much choice."

"Nonsense. You always have a choice."

"Very cheesy Jimmy."

"It's also true, Lois."

"What if the choice is death or destruction?"

"It's not like they said 'join us or die'."

"Uh-uh-uh. Answer the question."

"Well, yes. Death and destruction are still choices. They're just not particularly sunny choices."

"You know that actually makes a lot of sense Jimmy. Clark hung up on me and you actually said something coherent. I think I've seen it all now."

"Well thanks Lois... I think."

Perry White's grizzled head poked out of his office.

"Olsen!Lane! Where the hell is Kent! Get him in here yesterday! Reporters don't get time off on days like this!" He slammed the door without waiting for a reply.

"You know, he would have made a hell of a drill sergeant." Jimmy said.

"I don't even think there were question marks in that statement." Lois replied.

"Well, you heard him. Let's go get Clark."

"You know where he lives?"

"Oh yeah. It's not too far off actually. But first, lunch."

"I'm buying."

"You'd better, because I'm broke."

"Been treating Veronica again Archie?"

"So Cat Grant likes good things. Who doesn't? That doesn't make her Veronica Lodge."

"Oh? So she's Betty is she?"

"No...But you make it sound like it's a bad thing if she isn't."

"Your words,not mine."

 **12.17PM, Smallville**

"Was that that Lois girl you used to talk about?"

Clark turned around. Martha was standing at the door of the barn, holding a tray containing a pitcher of lemonade and a plate of cheesecake. He hovered over to her.

"Yeah. She wants me to check something on TV."

"Anything important?"

"Probably not. Last time it was a video of a Michael Jackson cat. I'll look at it later. This is delicious." He commented with his mouth full of cake.

"Manners Clark. And I'm not just talking about the food. Don't swear young man, especially not to a lady."

"She's hardly a lady." Clark mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." he replied with an innocent smile

"Anyway, don't swear. Or almost swear. That's not how we raised you."

Yeah right, Clark thought as he chewed.

When he was younger,Jonathan swore like a sailor whenever he hammered his fingers or got electrocuted or burned working on the machinery,and that happened on an almost daily basis.  
To his credit, he always thought Clark was out of earshot. But even before his powers had developed he already had unnaturally keen hearing.  
Martha only swore twice in Clark's memory,once when she had fallen off a horse and broken her wrist, and another time when she had spilled a pot of bubbling hot gravy in her lap.  
Both times they had been especially creative curses.  
To this day he still wondered where a sweet lady like her had learned such colorful language.

"What's wrong honey?"

"Nothing mom." He took another bite from the cheesecake. The flavors exploded on his tongue.

She gave him a knowing look that said she wasn't buying it.

"Really." He polished off the slice.

The look intensified.

"Ok, so maybe I've been a little stressed out lately."

Martha chuckled.

"You know you're just like Jonathan. Very mellow most of the time. But when he was mad or stressed out, he'd work like a dog, and he got a little snappy with me too. I didn't complain though. I know some men would be inclined to do much worse when they were in a foul mood. Most of the time it was easily remedied by some food. But I sense that won't be the case with you. What is it dear? Is it about your father?"

Clark sighed wearily. Should he tell her? It was always a tough choice. Burden them with his problems, or share them and ease some of the weight he always carried around with him?

As if sensing his dilemma, she said gently, "You know you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders here. When you come home you are our son. Clark Kent, not Superman. You don't have to put on a brave face for us. Talk to me."

They both sat down cross legged, facing each other on a bale of hay. Clark was silent for a long time.

"It's a lot of things mom. Dad's health. My job. My other job..."

"There's more, isn't there?"

"My powers, they've increased a lot over the past 5 years."

"That worries you?"

"I don't know if they'll ever stop. I thought flight would be the limit. Then I thought heat vision would be the limit. Then I thought it would be x-ray vision. Now I can see different spectrums of energy, and that's not all. The intensity of the powers I already have keeps climbing. I can see further, fly faster. I keep getting stronger. Nothing is a challenge anymore.  
Just yesterday I was stopping a robbery by this gang of ex-Delta Force guys I had written a story on a while back. You remember them, the guys who broke out of the Supermax prison and dropped completely off the map about 3 years ago. Anyway the trail led me to Kentucky. It turns out they had broken into Fort Knox... Anyway in the heat of the moment I ripped the doors of the vault clean off.  
I went home and did my research on that vault. Obviously there wasn't much information on it, but average vault door weighed at least 22 tons, and it was made of reinforced steel. 22 tons of reinforced steel!I ripped them off as easily as if I was peeling off a sticky note. And that's not all. Apparently in the 50's a 37 Kiloton nuclear warhead couldn't bust the vault. I'm officially more dangerous than a nuclear bomb... I barely had time to fix it and high tail out of there before the entire military force stationed there swung in. The only reason you didn't see it on the news is because they were too embarrassed to admit there had been a break in. I don't even know how they kept the story quiet with all the gunshots and explosions..."

He was rambling now and his eyes had gone vacant. Always a bad sign. Martha held his face in her hands.

"Clark,you said it yourself. That was in the heat of the moment. You can't judge yourself so harshly."

Very gently,he removed her hands from his face.

"Thats just it mom. I do have to judge myself so harshly. I'm probably the most feared man on the planet. I can't keep going like this. What if I really hurt someone one day? What if I kill someone? They've tried to put me down for far less, we both know that. What will happen on that day?"

"Oh honey. Is that why you're doing this?" she motioned to the steel beams and thick metal sheets lying on the floor of the barn. "Are you planning on building a prison for yourself?"

"Not a prison. A fortress. Somewhere I can be alone with my thoughts. Somewhere I can isolate myself. If ever that day comes. When that day comes."

"You're too hard on yourself. It was just a door. I know you would be much more careful with a living thing. And if ever the day comes that you have to handle someone so roughly,if ever the day comes that you'll be forced to take a life, then I know that person will have surely deserved it. You are an honorable man Clark, you had those qualities long before you could fly or shoot fire from your eyes. The fact that you show remorse for your actions speaks volumes about the kind of person you are."

Clark sighed again, but this time he sounded relieved.

"Thanks mom. You always know what to say to make me feel better."

"I'd be a pretty horrible mother if I didn't." she joked. "Come on, lets get back inside. I have a casserole with your name on it. Jonathan should be back from the doctor any minute now."

 **A/N: You know its funny this story is rated M, but I just can't make Clark swear. Not the big words anyway. I'd sooner write a steamy sex scene between him and a goat than do that. I can have Diana swear at some instances, I can maybe bear old money Bruce swearing. Maybe. But Boy Blue? I feel like he'd step out of the comic book panels and vaporize me if I had him say the word 'fuck'.**

 **Blame it on Byrne. That guy was very influential. He really set the tone for what Superman is today for casual and serious fans alike, like him or not. History repeats itself though,and for a long time we've been into 'real world', social justice heroes-regardless of whatever the hell that means or counts for in fictional universes of highly advanced aliens and omniscient entities.**  
 **But I digress, art cannot stay rigid, it has to imitate life. And comic books/films are a business at the end of the day. It does seem that people are getting tired of that now though. Watchmen and the Nolanverse Batman were refreshing, but I think I speak for a lot of people when I say we want a bit of that outlandish theme back.**

 **I think that's why Marvel/Fox/Disney/Whatever stuff like GOTG and Deadpool are far more popular among 'civilian' fans than DC/Warner Bros/Whatever stuff like Watchmen and BvS. It's not just about humor,maturity,color scheme,continuity or the lack thereof in their films. Its that defying-the-laws-of-physics-and-every-hollywood-rule-ever factor. After all, the average civilian moviegoer lacks the patience to grasp the nuances behind why Superman 'died' in BvS(many didn't even register the often blatant,sometimes subtle similarities/references to Jesus until fans/reviewers pointed them out), or why Rorschach screamed at Manhattan to kill him in Watchmen.**

 **But guys saving the universe by literally holding hands and believing really hard? Or one mutant mercenary effortlessly and brutally killing countless other mutant mercenaries; with nothing but a leotard, swords,a couple bullets and vengeance-or the power of love depending on how you look at it? Fucking awesome! When's the next one? Also, British villains. Apart from a few exceptions, nearly all the villains in Marvel films are brits. Gods, aliens, even the Nazi's are played by brits. I'm sorry but their actors are simply the best. Superman is being played by a brit FFS. That should tell you something. On a random note I really think Henry Cavill should be the next James Bond. As soon as he finishes Man from U.N.C.L.E of course.**

 **Also, the soundtracks don't hurt. IMO Watchmen is the only recent DC/Warner Bros movie with a brilliant soundtrack. Whoever does the score for Marvel films deserves a huge raise. They're showing the world that 60's,70's and 80's music is actually way better than most of the crap we have today. I didn't even know Angel of the Morning was actually by Juice Newton,not Shaggy,until I watched Deadpool. So thanks, whoever the Marvel soundtrack person is.**

 **Read. Review.**


	25. Chapter 25

"...and so he tells the guy, 'hey man,why don't you just leave him alone?' And the guy, he was huge y'know, even bigger than Clark, he just lets me go. And I'm thinking, ' well that was easy'. These guys were seniors, and they were football players, so that made them the kings of the frat. They didn't listen to anyone. Even the Dean turned a blind eye to their antics most of the time, so this was a huge deal. Then right as he's turning to go, POW! The guy just smashes a beer bottle on the back of Clark's head. Starts mouthing off about how Clark is a faggot and all this crap which I'd rather not repeat."

"Oh my god. What happened after?"

"Clark just turned around real slow, like he didn't even feel it. He feels the back of his head and looks at his hand. Thank god there was no bleeding. Then he just picked the big guy up and threw him. Sent him right over the counter and into the drinks cabinet, head first. There was this lull for a second, then all hell broke loose. The guys whole squad backed him up. Clark... well he didn't exactly go apeshit, but he damn near flattened the entire football team by himself. The only reason he didn't beat them all is because some of them were smart enough to get the hell out of there."

"Really? That sounds a bit much Jimmy."

"Scouts honour Lois. Go to MSU Ares House Fraternity and ask them about the night Clark Kent beat the crap out of the Metropolis Rams. They were so scared of him they told the coach they got drunk and crashed their truck into a ditch over the weekend. Clark was a legend around campus after that, but because it happened at a frat house not many people knew exactly what happened. But everyone just...respected him more after that. Those guys never bothered me again, in fact they inducted all the remaining guys into the frat without any more dumb tests. The big guy even replaced my camera. Then when it was all over and the guys were all groaning on the floor, he just comes up to me like nothing happened, and he says 'hi, my name is Clark Kent. Sorry you had to go through all that.' And that's not all, Clark actually befriended that guy. They weren't best buddies, but they had a mutual respect for each other up until the guy graduated. And now, the icing on the cake. The 'big guy' is Shawn Williams of the Coast City Sharks. So yeah, that's how I met Clark."

"Wow. That is surreal." Lois murmured.

"14th and Pine." the cab driver said mechanically.

"We're here."

"Finally. Wow, Clark lives really far. What does he do, fly to work every day?" Lois said as she paid the cab driver. "More where that came from, keep the engine running." she added to the cabbie.

"It's not that far. He walks I think. It's probably nothing to him though. The guy is built like a fridge."

Lois looked at the building. It was impossibly high.

"Please tell me he lives on the lower floors."

"Nope, top floor."

"I hope the elevator works."

"In a building this old? I think there's a better chance of you winning a Pulitzer."

"You wait. I'll get it one day. Anyway, I'm not walking all the way up this building. You'll just have to carry me."

"No way I can carry you. Work some of that lunch off. Besides, you've got a stairmaster at home. This is the same thing."

"Are you saying I'm fat? You're saying I'm fat!"

"No. I'm just-"

"Shut up! I can't believe you said I'm fat! Some friend you are Jimmy!"

"Lois, I-"

"Shut up! shut up! Let's just get this over with, ok?"

"Ok. After y-"

"What did I just say!?"

 **Upstairs...**

Clark stepped out of the shower dripping wet and walked into his living room. The news was still a bit of a shock to him, although after a little thought he supposed it wasn't that surprising. It was only a matter of time before the government did something like this. Of course they would want to control meta's in some way. Frankly he was surprised they hadn't put something in place sooner.  
Although knowing this government, they probably had something scary locked away somewhere for a very special day. Did they really? Was it really like in the movies? Some giant fail-safe stashed away somewhere? Stranger things have happened, the clinical part of his brain, the one he liked to call the Kryptonian, told him. What humans lack in raw power they make up for with resourcefulness and unnerving resilience. And that train of thought led him to think about Batman.  
Did he have any opinions on such affairs? Or was he fine with it as long as it stayed out of Gotham? Somehow he got the feeling discretion was very valuable to him. Thinking deeper he realized Batman was pretty much the only other superhero he knew personally-and even that was a generous way of putting it. One tense meeting doesn't mean anything. And he said not to contact him in case of an emergency.

Well, technically speaking he said not to contact Batman unless it was an emergency.

Bruce Wayne however...

So yeah, it wasn't that shocking.

What was really shocking was the open invitation to him.

Were they bluffing? Would they throw him into a cage the minute he walked in?

Walked into what? It's not like they were holding job interviews for joining the Justice League of America. The mental image rose unbidden. 'Hi, I'm here to try out for the JLA? I have various skills and abilities, and I'm a very fast learner.' One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to go to them. Maybe if they came to him he would accept. Maybe. Just maybe.

He shook his head, splashing droplets of water onto the coffee table. He wondered how his parents would respond to it. Then his thoughts turned to his friends next. Lois and Jimmy would be... That was harder to tell actually.

Lois and Jimmy!

The Daily Planet was probably abuzz with activity right now. Perry would want all hands on deck. And here he was thinking about stuff that didn't pay the rent. Why didn't he think of it before?

"I should have checked the news earlier..." He got up and began putting together some clothes to wear, when the doorbell rang. He looked through the door. Crap. Speak of the devil. Or rather think of the devil.

"Who is it?" he shouted.

"It's Lois and Jimmy you idiot! Who else would it be? We've only called you about a thousand times!" Lois shouted back.

"Just a minute!" he replied.

"I'm not waiting a minute Smallville! This hallway looks like it houses serial killers! Is that... Is that graffiti?"

"Yeah." He squinted to read the barely legible, tiny scrawl of ink on the wall. "I think it says...Oh dear.. I can't read that out loud." Jimmy said.

"God! I didn't know such places existed in Metropolis!"

"Hey, some of us actually have to live on our salaries alone. Besides, its the only 'graffiti' we saw the whole way here. And the elevator worked at least. It's not a bad place actually. Ever been to the Suicide Slums? or Bludhaven? They have those names for a reason."

"Suicide Slums I know of, but Bludhaven?"

"It's not that far from Gotham. It's probably worse than Gotham actually."

"I don't think any place is worse than Gotham."

"Some would say Bludhaven is. It doesn't have a bat-themed vigilante protecting it."

"Batman isn't real. He would have been there when that random attack happened."

"He is real. I happen to be a photographer Lois, and I can verify the authenticity of the popular 'Bat in the Sky' photo."

"Those are the biggest words I've ever heard you use...What is taking him so long? Clark, what the hel are you doing? Cooking up a shot? Flushing your stash? In this neighborhood I wouldn't be surprised."

Silence.

"Clark, if you don't open up right now I will break this door down! I think I might get tetanus just standing here!"

Clark was in his room, searching frantically for a towel.

No dice. That's what you get for dripping dry every day Kent.

He wasn't even sure he had ever had a towel. The doorbell rang again. He could hear a key sliding into the lock. When did he give Jimmy a key? And why would he enter the house anyway? He picked up a pair of jeans and hastily pulled them on, ripping them cleanly at the seams in the process. Superhuman strength was incredibly frustrating at times. Thankfully, he spotted a towel and he managed to wrap himself in it just as the front door opened. Before he stepped into the living room he ripped off his necklace and stuffed it under the pillow, then he put on his glasses.

"Um... to what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked in as natural a tone as possible.

"Oh my god." Was all Lois said after looking him up and down. Then she squeezed her eyes shut as her face turned beet red.

Clark turned to Jimmy, somewhat puzzled. "Is it something I said?" Jimmy wouldn't make eye contact.

"Clark, your towel is about as concealing as a miniskirt."

He looked down.  
The 'towel' he had wrapped himself in might have been enough to wrap around the waist of a teenage boy, but it was stretched too thin over his large frame. It did indeed look like a miniskirt. With a bulge at the front.

"OH! Oh god! I'm so sorry!" He practically said in a mortified tone. He went back into the room and put on his clothes, taking care to be slow, then he put on his glasses again-cursing at his carelessness- before going back into the living room.

"I think I've learned WAY TOO MUCH about Clark today. WAY TOO MUCH!"

"Oh come on Lois. It wasn't that bad, just a little bit more skin than usual. It's not like you saw his-"

"We shall never speak of this again!"

"Now hold on, I think you're exaggerating-"

"Shut up Clark!"

"I-"

"Silence!"

 **Downstairs..**

The cabbie flicked the smouldering cigarette butt out of the window just as his 'fares', as he liked to think of them, emerged from the building.

The Pretty Lady looked...embarrassed in an angry way. The Ginger looked thoroughly amused. There was a third guy with them, big guy with glasses. He must have been this 'Clark' the two were talking about. He could see why the Ginger said he was built like a fridge. He looked like an intellectual that moonlighted as a bouncer. He also looked guilty. He guessed that the lady was maybe the Fridge's girlfriend, or maybe she liked him, and they had walked in on him with another woman. He had seen it a million times. They all shuffled into the car quietly, the Fridge first, then Ginger, then Pretty Lady.

There was a pregnant silence.

He cleared his throat.

"Where to?"

"Daily Planet offices please." The Fridge said in a surprisingly quiet voice.

They drove in awkward silence for a while. That was all right, he had experienced many an awkward fare. Break-ups were always the weirdest. Then the Fridge spoke.

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah?"

"How did you get a spare key to my apartment?"

"I didn't."

"Then who-"

"It was me that had the key Clark."

"Oh."

Silence for a few beats.

"May I ask how you got it?"

"Really Clark? Really? You're going to ask me that now? After everything I just saw?" she asked angrily.

Definitely a cheating case, the cabbie thought triumphantly as they pulled up outside the offices.

"Daily Planet."

Somehow the Fridge paid first, even though he could see Pretty Lady reaching for her purse in the rear view mirror long before he had announced the destination. Ginger was obviously 'that guy' in the group that never paid for anything because he was always broke.

The Fridge was the last out of the car. For a brief moment he wondered if he should give him some advice. From the story he heard he seemed like a nice guy. Nah, it's none of my business anyway. The Fridge shut the door gingerly, as if it was made of glass.

He drove off in search of his next fare.

 **A/N: Harry, maybe you should read the note again.**


	26. Chapter 26

**5.03AM,Paddington,England**

"etingi", a voice whispered softly, the lips barely moving. The bouquet of white roses burst into colorful flames.

"hsiugnixte", the voice said again, and the flames snuffed out immediately.

"worg". The white roses twitched slightly, some life returning to the plant, but the petals were still limp and blackened. She threw the wilted petals into an ever growing pile in the waste paper basket.

"Shit!"

"Having some difficulties?" A voice asked from behind a copy of People Magazine.

"I can't get it to grow back fast enough."

"Wow. You're mad because you can't get them to grow back. I'm still trying to figure out how you set them on fire."the voice said sarcastically.

"Oh, very funny."

"Thank you, I'll be here all night." he flipped a page. "You know, I really do love these American papers. Everyone here keeps banging on about important things like the war in Syria, and the only thing yours are talking about is the Justice League of America. You people really are wrapped up in your own bubble. It's remarkable really."

"Kind of like how you guys think everyone loves soccer,tea and the Queen as much as you do? And you're one to talk. You have an X-Box and an I-pad."

"First of all, it's called football, because feet are actually used 99.99% of the time. And if it's a brand war you're after we can do that. Aston Martin,Jaguar, Range Rover, Bentley,Rolls Royce. All vehicles even moderately rich people in your country have owned at some point in their lives, or want to own. They're symbols of class. On the other hand, I've never seen any British aristocrats coveting Cadillacs, Mustangs,Corvettes or Camaros."

"Whatever. We'll call it even John. But I've seen some pretty ridiculous shit on the front page of some very 'reputable' British newspapers."

"Yes, after watching 'Legend' and 'Kingsman' no doubt. I'm sure you didn't know about any of that 'ridiculous shit' before those two films came out."

He was right. But she wasn't about to admit that.

"You have a problem with Americans John?"

"Oh no. It's what I like best about you. Sometimes it's nice to live in a bubblegum world. I don't know what I'd do if you didn't drop a huge pile of these off every time you visit."

"Probably smoke yourself to death."

"I'll have you know I'm down to 4 packs a day. That is a marked improvement on my part. Especially because I am never not missing a fag."

"You know we do actually report the serious stuff. It's just that superheroes are so much bigger than.. well anything. Look harder. You're sure to find a deep, globe-spanning narrative by some reporter that went to an Ivy League university. I wouldn't look for that in People though. Also, there is this amazing thing called an online subscription."

"Ha. Utilize modern methods? I think not."

"As I said earlier, you have an X-Box, so don't act like you don't know how to 'utilize modern methods'."

"By the way, have you ever played Warhammer 40k? I only learned of Space Marines, but my god I am hooked."

"Seriously John, help me out here."

The magazine lowered slightly, revealing a pair of blue eyes and above them short, messy blond hair.

"If I helped you every time, how would you ever learn?"

"You don't have to help me every time. Just this once."

"Pass."

"Why do I even come to see you?."

"Because I'm the only person that will hang out with your emo-chick-ness."

Zatanna glared at him.

"Can you blame me? The inky black hair? The piercings? The Creed albums?"

"First of all, my hair is naturally dark. Second, I haven't worn piercings for like 6 years. Third, Creed is really not that bad. It's not like its Slipknot or Metallica."

Constantine raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Ok,ok..By the way, I've been meaning to ask, do people know that this is all real? The people that pay so much to watch your 'magic' shows?"

"Hell no! You think I'd be a stage performer if people knew this was actual magic? I'd probably be in a bunker somewhere being studied by DARPA. As it is people just think I'm some type of illusionist."

"What the hell is DARPA?"

"Scary military scientists. You don't ever want to get made by them."

"Ah. So people think you're an illusionist/magician type? Like Dynamo? Wow. That's kind of evil Zatanna."

"Well, a girl's gotta eat. And we can't all do what you do. Whatever the hell that is."

"Detective work." he said cryptically.

"Right, I believe you. God only knows how you buy all these nice things with a freelance detective's salary."

"Pounds are worth more than dollars."

Zatanna rolled her eyes.

"I saw that Criss Angel Mindfreak. So..."

"So?"

"Bruce Wayne huh? You never told me you were... friends." The magazine was plopped down on the ground among various others, showing a double page spread of Bruce and Zatanna.

Zatanna blushed. She turned her face aside, hoping Constantine hadn't noticed.

"Didn't I?" she mumbled.

She could feel eyes boring into the back of her skull. Finally she turned.

He was watching her keenly, a mischievous look on his face.

"I think I'd remember something like that."

"Yeah well, we are. Friends I mean. We go way back."

"Ever had sex with him?"

"John!"

"I mean I'd totally understand if you did."

He picked up the magazine, quoting from the text.

"'Bruce Wayne is quite the specimen. Handsome. Athletic. Rich. The Holy Trinity to a woman. The last of the international playboys, it came as a pleasant surprise-and not so pleasant surprise for women the world over-when he was spotted with the beautiful stage magician/illusionist Zatanna Zatarra. Speculation has been rife over the nature of their relationship, but sources tell us the two are good friends. We think it's just another eccentric Wayne move, but who knows?' " He finished.

"No. I haven't."

"But you want to."

"No! Bruce is a good friend."

"Wow. Sometimes I wonder if you believe your own bullshit Z."

"We are just friends. Good friends." Zatanna mumbled into her hair,which had mysteriously fallen so that it covered her face.

"Yeah, sure. I can see your crotch soaking from here. Don't wet the carpet. Mum won't be pleased."

Her head shot up then.

"John!"

"I'm just saying. I mean look at your chest. Red as the devil's arse. And look how fast you're breathing. Practically hyperventilating here. I think it's safe to say you're at least a little turned on by the notion of jumping his bones. Or should I say bone?"

"Just...Shut up." Zatanna said. Her face felt very hot. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Quite." Constantine said as he lit a cigarette.

 **5.47PM, Rio de Janeiro**

"Sir, we have eyes on target."

"Excellent. This is a covert op, so engage ONLY when he moves away from the public, and no guns. We don't want any witnesses. Do NOT let him see you. I repeat, DO NOT let him see you. I can't stress that enough."

"Yes sir." The man turned to his companions. "Alright boys, this job is a regular snatch job. Let's get it done nice and smooth, and we can have the rest of the week to party our asses off. Be advised, the target should not catch sight of us. Understood?"

"Yes sir." The men said as one.

Several hundred metres away, Slade flapped the front of his vest and sipped from the bottle of beer in his hand, trying in vain to cool himself.

Brazil was a lovely country, at least from his viewpoint as a tourist. He would definitely return.  
Great food. Cheap booze. Wild beach parties. He had met a woman his first night here that had given it up once he walked into the bar. No conversation, no pretense. She didn't even ask him to pay immediately after; she hadn't asked him to pay at all.  
Now that was professionalism.  
He had been with her all day everyday since then. She was gorgeous. Skin as brown as a nut, an ample bosom and thighs coupled with a ridiculously narrow waist and eyes the color of the sea. He didn't know her name, she never asked his. She liked to play with his ponytail when they lay in bed together.

Brazil was a lovely country, but it was hotter than hell and as humid as a swamp. He was used to heat, many times he had been posted to some very very very hot places. It was the humidity that got to him. The cloying warmth that never seemed to go away.  
It reminded him of the training evolution in Belize so many years ago. Just thinking made him sweat, and sex got extremely sticky.  
His beer was rapidly warming in his hand. He set it down on the sand beside his easy chair. He was wearing his prosthetic eye underneath his glasses so he looked quite normal. It was slightly uncomfortable but it was better than the alternative. An eye-patch in this humidity would have been torture of the highest order.

Amateurs.  
He had clocked them 15 minutes ago. They were so obvious. Lean, ferrety CIA types with dark sunglasses and all black shirts and shorts. At least there were no obvious 'concealed carry' bulges. But they stood out. A lot. All black? In this heat? They must have been boiling in those clothes. These fairies couldn't hide their profession if their lives depended on it. The one in the lead was by far the most obvious, periodically touching his ear and mumbling to himself.

"[I'll be right back darling, just going for a leak]" He whispered in her ear in Portuguese.

She smiled languidly behind her large sunglasses. Slade walked for a few minutes,making sure to stumble for effect every few steps as he headed towards the dense tree line. He wasn't lying. He actually needed to pee. As the golden shower hit the soft white sand, he began doing the maths in his head. How much would he have to pay her when all of this was done? Probably a lot. She was a high class type, he could tell. As one part of his brain ruminated on this, another part, what he liked to think of as his 'situational awareness lobe', registered movement towards his left.

Amateurs. Even on the sand they were heavy footed. Plop-plop-plop. Like ducks. No noise discipline at all. This is what the once famed Team 7 has been reduced to? All the soldiers left and they only had inexperienced Spooks? He almost felt bad about what was coming next. Almost.

The first man approached cautiously, on his blind side. Not cautiously enough. Slade spoke without turning.

"Let me just finish up here. I'd hate to get any piss on my shorts. This is my favorite pair." He could sense them freezing in place. He turned around slowly, sizing them up. They were very young for CIA agents. Mid 20's at most. he addressed their leader."What are you, 12? Have you boys even started shaving yet?"

"Take him." The leader said.

The first one, the biggest, lunged for Slade. He sidestepped the tackle and the man fell face first into the sand. Without looking he stomped hard on the back of his head and there was a loud snapping sound. The man twitched a few times and lay still.

To their credit, the men were unfazed.

The leader pulled out a taser and fired the cords at Slade's chest.  
He growled angrily as 50,000 volts coursed through his body. To the amazement of the 3 men he reached up and grasped the cords. He clenched his jaws so hard he was sure his teeth would turn to dust as he struggled not to scream in agony. Somehow he managed to yank the cords off.

Now the men looked scared. They had no time to react as Slade threw himself at them with savage fury.

"I"-SMACK-"Hate"-KRACK-"Tasers." He said as he punched the nearest one in the face and then shattered his windpipe with outstretched fingers. The man fell to the ground making gurgling noises as blood streamed from his mouth and nose.

He heard the sound of a knife being pulled out of its sheath. He caught the hand just as it was raising the knife, breaking the wrist, then the elbow with ease. The man screamed in pain for a millisecond before Slade's forehead came crushing down on his face and the knife that had been in his hand moments before was rammed into his skull. He joined his teammates on the ground. All told, it took about 5 seconds to kill them all.

"I'm getting slow. Too much beer and fucking, not enough training and killing." he joked.

The leader retreated, his hands in the air. "Hey man, as far as I'm concerned you escaped."

Slade smiled darkly. He stepped over the bleeding corpses.

"I want you to send Lynch a message for me..."

 **25 minutes later..**

The American returned.

He had taken an awfully long time to piss, but she asked nothing of it.  
There were some drops of blood on his shorts, and what looked like two burns on his vest.  
She asked nothing of that either. She had seen the 4 men follow the American into the clearing shortly after he left her, and she saw him emerge alone afterwards.

She wasn't stupid, she had a pretty good idea what happened in the clearing.

He was good looking in a... brutal looking way? Like the type of person you only glance at briefly for fear they would catch you looking. Yes, that seemed right when she thought of a way to describe his face. Like how a lion looked. In fact, his long platinum blond hair and beard did give him a leonine appearance. And it was impossible to tell his age. He could have been anything between 30 and 50.

People sensed danger about him straight away whenever he walked into any bars in the favelas. Even the local hoods had sensed a predatory air around him and didn't try to hassle him for dollars or offer to get him drugs. Perhaps they sensed that any foreigner who moved as confidently as he did in places where other tourists wouldn't be caught dead probably wasn't one to fuck with. No one dared call him gringo either, even though the term wasn't considered offensive in Brazil.  
Unlike almost every other foreigner she had met, he spoke Portuguese flawlessly, with only the lightest of accents.

That first night, it had taken a lot of control not to gasp when he removed his clothes. His muscled torso was tattooed with scars.  
Some she recognized as gunshot and stab wounds, others as burns.  
Most she couldn't place at all.  
He talked a lot in his sleep. When he did sleep.

He woke up in the middle of every night,each time covered in sweat.  
Once or twice he would wake up shouting things she couldn't understand, but they sounded like orders.  
Every time he woke,no matter what time it was or how well he slept, he would automatically reach for something under the pillow.  
A gun, she guessed.  
She didn't speak much English beyond the most basic of terms, but the words 'Adeline' and 'Grant' came up a lot. She guessed they were names. She didn't ask anything about this either. She would just lay her head on his chest and caress his head until his heart rate slowed down to its inhumanly slow pulse.

He wasn't the first killer she had slept with, and he probably wouldn't be the last, but he was perhaps the scariest. Violence seemed to be his very nature.  
Somehow she sensed he wouldn't hurt her the moment she approached him, and he hadn't. He had been a perfect gentleman thus far, much nicer than most others. Her only complaint was that he never seemed to tire.

And not just physically. He was the most insatiable client she had ever had. She was quite certain he could literally go all day and all night non stop, but he was much too considerate to ever do that.

That was a first from a man that paid for the service.

So she knew he wasn't a normal man, but she never asked any questions beyond 'Where are we going tonight?' or 'What do you want to do today?'

Sometimes it was better not to know.

Actually, it was always better not to know.

 **A/N: Slade's hair was yellow blond before and now it's platinum blond , yes. Don't worry, it's not a mistake, I will explain it later.**

 **Skilgannon, I'm humbled too, and I don't mind long reviews at all. If anything I live for detail. Glad you're liking the story so much and that you've picked up on the easter eggs I've been laying every few chapters. You're right, some of them will be things that come much much later, hopefully. I'm planning on playing a very long game, I can only hope that I can weave this Universe together as seamlessly as possible in the end.**

 **Guest, about BMWW, technically it was Diana and Bruce that were attracted to each other, not Batman and Wonder Woman. Some people might think they're the same, but I think Bruce becomes another person when he wears the cowl, and on top of that he is a very different person-to the people who really know him-than the person he pretends to be in the public eye. Yes, he can be very charming and outgoing when he wants to be, but he can also be extremely introverted. Most times when Bruce flirts its just him practicing his acting skills like he would any other skill. Wonder Woman and Superman are the members of the Trinity who are more or less the same in and out of costume. Will Diana be attracted to the real Bruce? Enough to date him? Form a relationship with him? And while Bruce does get attracted to women, its usually a 'I like her but do I like her enough to quit this Thug Life?'type of scenario. Just some things for you to think about.**

 **As always, Read an Review.**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Guest, with respect, that's a little presumptuous of you. I wrote that chapter. I think I know best what I was trying to convey. And to everyone else, thank you for weighing in. It's always interesting to hear how other people view these characters. But you must know that although I find your takes on the ships and characters helpful, I will always disregard them in favour of whatever I feel fits my narrative. Hopefully that should stop anyone harbouring notions of influencing this fic by convincing me of the logic behind their personal opinions.** *****************************************************************************************************************************

 **Ferris Aircraft Test Facility, Nevada**

Hal Jordan stood in his flight suit, admiring the sleek gunmetal grey jet a few hundred metres away. He was about to take it on a test flight. It was a beautiful day for flying. Clear blue skies, the sun hidden just behind a few clouds.

Glorious. He dropped the cigarette butt and crushed it under his boot heel. Jet fuel was a hundred thousand million billion times more volatile than other types.

"I thought you quit."

He turned in the direction of the voice. Carol Ferris. She looked as breathtaking as always. Her long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, which meant her father was around. Keep distance of 10 feet, he thought.

Her father, Carl Ferris, didn't like him very much. He respected his skills as a pilot, but that was all he respected. Hal Jordan was the kind of man many men wanted to be but none wanted to see with any female they even remotely cared for, let alone their daughters.  
Not that he needed to worry.  
They had a good run in the weeks before he was officially hired, but Carol would never date an employee. Hal thought it was ridiculous because they both clearly cared for each other and the tension between them was through the roof,but whatever people may think of him, he wasn't the type to push a woman. In any case, he respected Carol far too much for that.

She never seemed more beautiful than when he was about to take off into the skies. Life itself became more vivid, but she stood out more than anything. She was wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a black pair of cigarette pants. The other men said she looked too mannish. Hal thought she would look no less appealing wearing a wooden box. Her trademark much chewed pencil was poised behind her left ear.

"I did. Bummed it from one of the grease-monkeys. This is a traditional fighter pilot breakfast. Coke, puke, smoke. I figured I'd honor that just for today. It's Silk Cut, they're supposed to be better for you."

"How can a cigarette possibly be 'better' for you?"

Hal shrugged. "I guess the correct term is less worse."

"I trust you read up on it, right?"

"Of course I did."

They both admired the machine.

"They say she's faster than ever. 10Mach to the previous 6.70Mach."

"Theoretically." was all she said. Then she added, "We just might make 15.0Mach in this lifetime."

"Yeah? I hope so. Promise me you'll let me test that one. Even if I'm 100 years old. Or dead. I'll claw my way out of the grave and drag my bony ass here to fly that thing."

She smiled, but then her face turned serious again. "I wish you wouldn't always talk about dying just before you climbed in."

"I'm just trying to make conversation." he joked. Behind the silver tinted aviators glasses he knew she was glaring at him. She had never quite understood that Hal bringing up death in some way or another just before a big test like this one was the closest he could get to 'making peace' with her before he died. If he died.

"Hey, look at me Carol, I won't crash. I never crash. Ever."

"There's a first time for everything Hal. And you've had more than your fair share of near misses."

"Yeah, but I always make it out. And that's what test pilots are for, right? I crash so some poor bastard somewhere doesn't. Anyway, you can't crash when you're as good as I am." He said with a grin. She punched his arm.

"Don't get cocky."

"Bit late for that. Hey, you know what they say, it ain't tricking if you got it."

"Sorry, what?"

"It means its not boasting if you can back it up. And you know I can back it up."

"Yeah, but still... Just be careful, ok?"

"Always." He said before he climbed into the cockpit of what was going to be the future of the US Air Force, a modified X-15. It had first been used in the late 50's mostly for research and development purposes, but now the military wanted to look at its offensive capabilities. It wasn't that different from its counterpart, except that it was faster, and instead of being dropped at an altitude of 14km by a B-52, it would use ground thrusters to get it up into the air. All of that meant a lot more fuel being burned, and a lot more zero's on the bill to put this all together than Hal wanted to think about. But this was all theoretical. Men like Hal Jordan were the ones who had to go out there and prove the tangibility of the numbers on a page.

If it wasn't good enough, if the structure wasn't sound enough to hold together at the reputed max speed, or the engines stopped working past a certain altitude, then it would show during testing and the engineers would go back to the drawing board. Unfortunately things like compromised structural integrity and engine failure tended to result in horrific, fiery deaths that climaxed with earth shattering explosions more often than safe landings.

The best the engineers could do was advise Hal on what to do or anticipate, but he was expected to push the plane to its limits and then some. After all, these machines may very well be used in a war someday, and that was a very bad time to find out that your wings fall apart when you get past a certain speed, or that the engine stalls when you perform a barrel roll at 30,000 feet. It was no easy job, and it required a rare mix of a cool head and a devil may care attitude. Hal Jordan had these two qualities in abundance, but he leaned more towards the latter.

He put on the helmet and the face-mask. Instantly the intercom in the helmet crackled with the voice of Colonel Flagg.

"Jordan, be careful with that thing. It's not ours. Not yet anyway. If you break it, the Military will take a giant shit on our heads, so no fancy Flyboy stuff, ok? Just standard flight maneuvers for today."

"Yes Mom." He said as he checked and re-checked the flight instruments.

He made sure the lever under his seat wasn't jammed in case he needed to punch out in a hurry. Hal had seen men die horribly, falling helplessly out of the sky like flaming dead birds because they forgot to do one simple thing, make sure their shit was in order.

"I'm serious Jordan."

"I know. I already got the speech from Mrs. Ferris yesterday."

In the control tower, Flagg ground his teeth. Jordan was an outstanding pilot, and like all men who are exceptional at their jobs, he was liable to moments of extreme cockiness, bordering on arrogance. He only put up with it because as an Air Force man himself he understood that flying what amounted to a sophisticated coffin at speeds that would peel the skin off of your teeth and heights that made everything look tinier than the tiniest of ants required a liberal helping of bravado, with a generous side of machismo.

"Firing primary thrusters now." Hal said as he flicked the ignition switches.

The engines at the base of the plane roared to life and white hot flames fired out of the chutes. The noise was deafening. The thrusters shot out the flames as the plane slowly levitated, going ever higher until it reached the 14,000 metre mark.

Hal checked the instruments, the readings seemed about right, only off by a few digits after the decimal. Nothing too far off from the engineers estimated figures.

"Ok, everything seems fine. Engaging secondary thrusters." He said as he flicked another set of ignition switches.

Now came the hard part. Because the plane was much too fast and flew too high to use drag as a form of steering, he had to use rocket thrusters to control the plane. It sounded easy enough, but there were three joysticks, one for regular steering and the other two that controlled the thrusters. He would have to somehow control all 3 if he was to have complete control of the plane. Well, not complete control, but a damn sight better than he would have with just one joystick.

"Here we go. One small step for man and all that." He nudged the joysticks ever so slightly. The plane blasted forward, the force pushing him back into the seat.

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODTHISISFASTERTHANTHESPEEDOFTHOUGHTHOOOOOOOOOLYSHIIIITOHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT he thought as he surged forward at unimaginable speeds. Even as a Lantern he had never before flown this fast. He was definitely going to try that now. Every chance he got. He felt like he was going to puke. He hadn't felt this excited in a long time. He looked at the dials. he was approaching 7Mach. Doing the math in his head he realized it was close to 8,000KM/h.

"Jordan, talk to us dammit!" The intercom crackled in his ear. It sounded like it came from an impossibly far distance. Like Flagg was in a tunnel on the other side of the planet. Like in cartoons when someone drilled their way to China.

Focus Hal! The deck needs a sitrep. He struggled to form the words. Once they started they wouldn't stop. They came out in an endless stream.

"GAAAAAAHEVERYTHINGSEEMSFINEENGINETEMPERATURESTABLEBAROMETRICPRESSUREOKALTITUDECLIMBING75KM-"

"What? I can't hear a word you're saying Jordan! Slow it down! You're just moving fast,not talking fast!" Flagg had seen it before. Once you got to a certain speed the mind just..lost it somehow. Jordan was experienced though, so he wasn't too worried about him. Looking across at Carl he could see he was also calm, but Carol looked slightly worried behind her sunglasses.

"Ugh... Engine temperature stable. Barometric pressure inside cabin seems ok. Speed...7.5Mach... Altitude... Approaching 100KM mark..Passed it, now climbing.."

Flagg nodded. "He's just passed the 100KM mark and he's at 7.5Mach. He's broken the record for height and speed." he said to the room. The engineers and technicians cheered. Carl Ferris smiled tightly. Carol's face didn't change in the slightest.

The windows of the cabin were starting to frost over as he climbed ever higher. He pushed a button beside the first joystick that activated heaters in the windows. He was mindful of the instruments the whole time.

"Jordan! Communicate!"

"This...is a little harder...than it..looks..speed..8.3Mach..Altitude..147.5KM..."

"All right Jordan, I think that's far enough. When you get to 8.5Mach and 150KM, slow it down and come back to Earth."

No response.

"Did you hear me Jordan?!"

"I...I did...I've hit those numbers.. But I'm gonna see if I can max this baby..."

"No! Standard maneuvers only Jordan, you disengage right now!"

"Like...like hell I am...This isn't the Air Force Flagg..You don't give me orders...You can't give me orders!"

"Jordan! Stop now!"

"Sorry Flagg, I'm feeling lucky! Speed,10.6Mach. Altitude...174.6KM..Gonna push it just a little further!"

"Jordan! That plane wasn't built to take any more than the specified figures!"

"It wouldn't have made it this far if that was the case." He sounded oddly peaceful.

"Jordan! Jordan! Answer me!" Static. Shit.

"We've lost comms." He said quietly. Carol walked out of the room onto the balcony. She bowed her head. Carl's face looked troubled.

 **215KM Above Earth**

Hal had never been this high up in a jet before. It was always something he had wanted to do. Sure he saw the stars all the time, and as a Green Lantern he saw things humans couldn't even dream of, but this was something he could finally cross off of his bucket list. The ring was awesome but it just couldn't compare to the feeling of a powerful man-made machine under his control. It was like the difference between playing a first person shooter game and actually being in a firefight. This was a feeling the ring could not give him. It was always mental, never physical. That was one thing-the only thing- he missed about his time in the Air Force. Lucky for him he landed a job where he got to play with their toys before they did.

He had reached the Golden Moment. The time when he felt weightless...at peace with everything. A part of existence itself. He looked at the instruments. Everything stable. Whatever happened now didn't matter. He had just had one hell of a ride. He breathed in the oxygen from his mask.

Glorious.

And then his ring bleeped.

"Really!? Now!? When I'm actually doing something important, you choose to do this now!?"

The ring projected a hologram of...no way.

"Sinestro!? This better be some planet ending shit man!"

"Jordan, I don't like seeing your face any more than you do mine, but I must. The Guardians have asked for you to report to Oa immediately."

"What, me specifically? What the hell for?"

"I don't know."

"Why didn't they just tell me themselves?"

Sinestro very nearly laughed.

"You are a low-level Lantern. A grunt. Do you really think the Guardians would contact a worm like you personally?"

"I wonder what that says about you if they sent Big Bad Sinestro to call a lowly grunt."

That wiped the smirk off of his face.

"Report to Oa immediately Lantern." It had the tone of an order.  
Technically Lanterns didn't really have ranks, but a veteran like Sinestro was obeyed by just about everyone.

Except Hal Jordan.

"Look, I'm a little busy here-"

"This is Corps business. Whatever you are doing will have to wait."

"No can do Barney. Earth isn't like wherever the hell you're from. I have a day job, and a secret identity to protect. Leaving work now would look hella suspicious."

"Fine. But as soon as you are done, report to Oa. Sinestro out."

The green hologram fizzled out. His eyes shifted to the dials. Holy shit. Speed was 12.0Mach and altitude was well over 200KM above Earth. He was going to burn up on re-entry. Unless...

He looked at his gloved hand. It had worked through the glove. Would it work through the hull of reinforced steel and aluminum? Only one way to find out.

He concentrated on forming a protective shield around the outside of the plane. It wasn't easy. but will was something he had in abundance, and eventually he managed to encase the entire plane in the shield. It actually made things a lot easier because he could just steer the plane with his mind. Technically it was cheating but he doubted any USAF fighter pilots would ever need to be 200KM+ high above Earth, and the engine and chassis had held up thus far. Once he breached the atmosphere he would nix the shield, then all he had to do was stick the landing.

Piece of cake after everything else. Literally the second he breached the atmosphere his headset began squawking.

"JordanJordanJordanJor-"

"I'm here, shut up for gods sake. How long have you been droning my name?"

"You really fucked up this time Jordan. This may be your last flight. I hope it was worth it."

Hal was silent for a few minutes as he concentrated on the 3 steering columns, using all the rocket thrusters to steer as well as slow his descent. He touched down gently after hovering over the ground for a few meters to kill any lingering momentum. His head was pushed forward onto the front cushion as the X-15 decelerated. He looked at the dials. It's speed slowing down was greater than the max speed of most planes he had flown his entire career thus far.

"I'm not fired Colonel. Not if I land her without a scratch. Which I just did. Also, I just broke the records I set earlier. New ones are a speed of 12.0Mach and altitude was 254KM. For once, the bird actually exceeded expectations."

"It's a miracle your alive. Those numbers are outstanding, but for once I don't think that'll be enough. Ferris is pissed."

"She's always pissed."

"Both of them Jordan. I'd say Papa Bear is the angrier of the two."

"Shit."

"Yes Jordan. Shit."

 **Several hours later. Ferris Aircraft,Coast City**

After receiving a very thorough lecture from both Ferris Aircraft bosses, he was finally released from the office. He had never seen Mr Ferris so livid. At one point his face was so red Hal felt sure it would burst.

Carol was even worse. She had actually called him Harold.

He went into the locker room and changed out of his sweat-soaked flightsuit, then he took a long, hot shower. It could be worse, he thought as the water ran over his body. He could have lost his job. Flagg had been wrong about one thing though, the performance had been good enough to save his ass from getting canned at the very least.

But suspended without pay? For an indefinite period of time?

He had enough money stashed away to go without work for at least another year, but he would miss the thrill of flying jets really really fast. What would he do with himself now? he wondered as he changed into his faded blue jeans and white t-shirt. Go back to stunt driving? No. He'd have to throw himself into his other job. He had to go to Oa. But first, he'd drop his stuff off at home.

He met Colonel Flagg on his way out, also dressed in civilian clothes, with a tween that must have been his son. Flagg looked...happy.

"Wow Colonel. I didn't know you were human."

"Hal, this is my son, Rick Flagg Jr." He didn't even register the jibe. Zero points for creativity in the naming department, he thought. Hal was awkward with kids.

"Er..Hi Rick Flagg Jr. Listen Colonel, I'm heading out. See you when I see you."

"Oh, that's all right Hal. Until next time." He even sounded different.

As he walked out of the base with his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, he looked back at Colonel Flagg.

He was down on one knee, putting the aviator cap on his son's head. It was too big for the boy and it covered his face almost halfway.  
Despite himself Hal smiled at the sight. It was..gratifying to see someone normally so aloof showing signs of humanity.

Hal couldn't have known it, but it was to be the last time he would ever see Colonel Flagg.

*****************************************************************************************************************************  
 **A/N: X-15 is real, every last detail. It's top speed was as listed above-6.70Mach. Interestingly enough Neil Armstrong was actually a test pilot for one of these, I didn't know that. It's cool to see real life examples of exceptionally skilled human beings achieving great things as a result of their ability. Maybe we will have superheroes one day, eh? It might seem like a dream, but 100 years ago people probably thought we'd never get to the stars.**

 **I hope this chapter gives you some insight into *my* Hal Jordan.**

 **Read and Review.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Oa**

Hal flew past the massive main power battery, drinking in the sight of the luminescent green energy.

It never looked any less surreal, no matter how many times he saw it. A gargantuan structure containing the willpower of every sentient being in the universe, harnessed in a giant green lantern.  
How the Guardians even managed that was a mystery. No one even knew how old the Green Lantern Corps was. As far back as even the oldest species could remember, there had always been Green Lanterns.

In his admittedly short time as a Lantern he had been to one or two planets so old there was no life left on them, but even here they found ancient texts among the crumbling and decayed ruins that told of the deeds of emerald warriors that could fly.  
It was incredible, the similarities that virtually all living things in the Universe shared.

For one thing, most aliens he met were humanoid, or vaguely humanoid in physiology. The differences mostly came from the number of organs and their functions, and of course the cultures, customs and languages-and even here there were startling similarities.  
He could speak some very basic alien phrases for the purposes of giving orders,asking questions and of course swearing, but most alien languages were beyond him. It wasn't that he lacked the mental capacity. It's just that he literally could not form the words. Many languages needed an additional epiglottis or multiple tongues.  
Luckily the power-ring could translate any language, provided the speaker also wore a power-ring.

Perhaps the most surprising thing were the aliens themselves. Growing up on Earth he had always believed aliens were much more advanced, light years ahead of anything humankind had. Spielberg and all the others were wrong. Aliens were highly advanced, but just as it was on Earth, so it was on almost every other planet. On some planets there were species of aliens that were even more warlike, barbaric and bloodthirsty than Vikings,Mongols and Spartans put together. They still fought with crude weapons, divided themselves according to tribes and clans, and some even dressed in animal pelts.

And just like humans, aliens were a contradiction.  
Take the extinct Kryptonians, or their living 'cousins' the Daxamites. Both were highly advanced both technologically and culturally even by alien standards, yet both were extremely xenophobic.

As he got deeper into the Operating Base of the Corps he ran into Kilonwog, one of the Lanterns that had trained him. Kilonwog's specialty was hand to hand combat. His physiology was uniquely suited to the giving and receiving of savage beatdowns.  
He was huge, and he looked like the love child of a hippo and a wild boar. He was almost seven feet tall, with a chest and shoulders as broad as that of two or three fully grown men.  
Even without his ring, Kilonwog wasn't someone Hal ever wanted to cross.

"Jordan! What the hell brings you here? I thought between protecting sector 2814 and your home planet you'd hardly have time to visit." He growled in his impossibly deep voice.

"The bulb-heads called apparently. I guess I'll find out why in a few moments." He added in response to the puzzled expression on the alien's face.

"Better get to it right away then. You know how much they hate to be kept waiting. If you got time come and see me in the sparring room. We still need to work on your hand to hand combat skills."

"Sure, I will." Nope. Definitely will not. He still had nightmares about his first ever sparring session with Kilonwog.

He increased his speed as he reached the massive double doors. They opened incredibly slowly and he had to slow down. It was mentally controlled by the Guardians. This was their way of screwing with him. He could feel it.

"Hal Jordan, Green Lantern of Earth, Space Sector 2814, reporting for... whatever it is you called me here for." Hal said as he floated before the Guardians.

He had only met them a few times before.

He still didn't know what to make of them.  
They looked quite unnerving the first time he met them, but he soon got used to it. They had pale blue-grey skin and white hair, and they wore long flowing robes. They wore no jewelry and sat in simple stone thrones that floated in space, but you could sense the power in them.  
Their eyes were by far their eeriest quality. You got the feeling you were naked before them. Like they could see right through you, literally and figuratively. They could size a person up and know what made them tick immediately. They probably knew what he ate this morning too.

Their massive heads however, he would never get used to. They reminded him of Onion Boy from Fat Dog Mendoza, except their heads weren't quite so bulbous and round. They were more like inverted cones.

"Ring-bearer Jordan, can you explain why you are 12 Earth hours late?"

"Actually its 11 hours 47 minutes. I shaved some time off of the long flight here."

They looked at him in stony silence.

"Um, I had... work related issues. As you know, Earth is not exactly the most advanced of planets-"

"It is a backwater filled with barbarians, yes. But you serve a purpose." One of the Guardians said snidely.  
Hal didn't know his name but from the little interaction he had with him in the past he didn't seem to like humans very much.

"Thing is, they don't know you guys exist. To them, I'm a freak in a colorful suit, not a member of an intergalactic police force. They think I'm a lone wolf. There are no other Lanterns on Earth y'see."

"Yes, we know that. We know everything. Joining this Justice League of America was a wise decision on your part. It is good for the people of Earth to see that Green Lanterns are a force for good." Said a female Guardian.

Hal wasn't that surprised. They really did know everything. They weren't called the Guardians of the Universe for nothing.

"But that is not why you are here. We have summoned you for another reason. A ring returned to Oa several Earth days ago. You know what that means." A power-ring materialized before his face. It glowed faintly.

Hal's face hardened. A fellow Lantern had fallen in battle. He nodded curtly.

"We summoned you here, because the ring found a suitable bearer, but this bearer rejected the ring." Hal raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, you couldn't really reject a Power Ring. It rejected you. It was like a really, really, really attractive woman. Or a free ice-cream sample. Rejections just didn't happen to it.

"Is that even possible?" Hal asked.

"Yes. Though it is extremely rare. We can count the number of times that has happened in the entire history of the Corps. It indicates that the wearer has willpower exceeding that of the Power Ring."

"That can happen?"

"As I have said, only in extremely rare cases. This appears to be one of them. We want you to find this ring bearer, give them the ring and take them under your wing."

"There are literally millions of Lanterns that are far more qualified than I am. Why me?"

"Because this ring bearer is from Earth." Hal's eyes widened.

"You want me to find the ring-bearer, then convince them to accept it, and then train them? You know who you're talking to right? Who gave you that crazy idea?"

"I did."

A tall, lean, red skinned Lantern floated into the room. A small scar ran from his eyelid to just above his cheek. He had short black hair and a thin mustache, but the rest of his face was clean shaven. He looked a lot like Clark Gable. Except he had a narrower face. And red skin.

He was Thaal Sinestro, the most highly respected and best known Green Lantern in the Corps. He was Green Lantern of space sector 1417, a sector famed for being almost completely devoid of crime, a testament to his prowess and ability as a Lantern.  
He hailed from the planet Korugar, and had a reputation for being totally fearless and honourable to what Hal considered an anal degree. He didn't like him, but he did respect him. Except he was careful never to show it.

Behind him was Kilonwog, grinning from ear to ear. A truly horrendous sight.

It was his partner and mentor, Abin Sur,who's ring Hal had inherited. Sinestro had never really liked Hal and the feeling was mutual. He believed Hal was not worthy of the Green Lantern mantle, and he felt he was not worthy of Abin Sur's power ring.

Or so he thought.

What Hal didn't know was that Sinestro only gave a hard time to Lanterns who he thought had promising futures, and that he actually liked Jordan, mostly because he had the balls to always say exactly what was on his mind.  
That was refreshing to a man like Sinestro, and it was a quality he admired in Hal. Most of all, he trusted Abin Sur's judgement.  
If his former mentor and partner chose this human to wield the ring, then there was a very good reason for it.

But like a typical Sensei, he never showed any sign of his true feelings.

If Jordan wanted that, he would have to earn it the hard way, because that was the only way.

So Hal was having a hard time understanding the recommendation.

"Sinestro."

"Jordan."

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"Tutoring this ring bearer will perhaps teach you a thing or two."

"I just want to see if you can handle baby-sitting the noob, like we had to do for you."  
Kilonwog growled in his deep voice, grinning all the while.

"Ok then. You want me to baby-sit a potential Lantern."

"Remember Jordan, ring bearers like this are a rarity. Come back with him, or don't come back at all." Sinestro said sternly.

"He's being a little extreme. What he means is, if you screw this up you're in big trouble." Kilonwog added rather unhelpfully.

He was silent for a few moments.

"I understand." He finally said.

"Good. You are dismissed Lantern." said one of the Guardians.

Hal took the ring and set off immediately for Earth.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this Ganthet." Sinestro said.

"I didn't talk you into anything Thaal. You know as well as I do he has potential. It seems that humans make excellent Green Lanterns. They have achieved great things through sheer willpower. Hal Jordan is no exception. He may be arrogant,short tempered and a tad overbearing, but I know we both believe he will be a great Lantern, perhaps even as great as you."

Kilonwog and Sinestro shared a look, before flying out of the Guardian's chambers.

"You think they're wrong?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he is a good Lantern, and I trust Abin Sur's judgement. He chose him for a reason. He saw something in him."

"Wow. If he hears you say that, you'll never live it down."

"Who said anything about him ever hearing it?" Sinestro said darkly.

"Oh please. That might work with the rookies, but it won't work with me. I'm one of the few people who knew you before you became a legend. But seriously, what makes you so sure?"

Sinestro scowled at him, then he broke into a rare smile, which disapearred as quickly as it appeared.

"Abin Sur, may his soul rest in eternal peace, was my partner for many moons. He was a far better Lantern than I, and a far better judge of character. But more than that,there was one thing he never ceased to remind me."

"And what was that?"

"The Guardians are _never_ wrong."

 **A/N: Sinestro is one of my favorite characters, and IMO one of the most noble characters in the DC Universe. He is the very definition of the misunderstood villain, along with Orm. He just wants to do whatever it takes to protect his people, and even when they hate and fear him he still goes on with it. Because no one else will do it, he took it upon himself. Selflessness is always admirable, no matter what side of the scale the character falls on. I believe he has a lot in common with Hal, although we all know where Hal draws the line.  
**

 **Read and Review.**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Alekile, I hate Guy Gardner. Hate his costume, his haircut, his attitude. But once upon a time I hated Superman and Steve Trevor. Nothing is ever a sure thing. As for who the ring rejector is, well you'll just have to read on and find out.**

 **Skilgannon, no, you didn't miss anything. As much as I like to pay attention to detail, this fic would have 100+ chapters if I filled in every little link in the chain. Some things will happen 'off panel' as it were. As for the Trinity, next chapter. Promise.**

 **PS: I didn't know there was a button for a horizontal line. I feel so stupid.  
**

* * *

 **7.45AM, Gotham, Wayne Manor**

"Master Bruce."

"Alfred. Surely its not time for work already?"

"No sir. I know how much you hate being interrupted during your training, but there is something I think you should see."

Bruce punched the heavy bag several more times, executing a flawless 12 punch combo, finishing with a powerful hay maker that burst the bag open, spilling sand out onto the ground. He unwrapped the strapping from his fists with his teeth.

"It's all right Alfred. I'm done for now. Make a note to get a new heavy bag. This one is out of commission."

"I shall have a new one brought up this evening sir."

Bruce nodded.

"So,what is it?"

"Well sir... I think you'd better see for yourself."

Alfred swiped the screen of the tablet in his hand, and the massive computer monitor at the other end of the room came to life.

The footage was quite shaky and somewhat grainy from dust. It was a city center. The environment looked utterly decimated, buildings in various stages of destruction, craters dotted the roads,electricity poles ripped out of the ground, their sparks flashing intermittently. There were smashed vehicles too, some of them ablaze. It looked like someone had dropped a massive bomb on the area.

* * *

 **7.45AM, Metropolis**

"Lois, we're going to die here! How did you even convince Perry to let you do this?"

"I didn't."

"What!? Are you crazy!? You stole all this stuff?"

"I prefer to think of it as borrowing. You know how to use that thing right?"

"Yes Lois, I went to college too."

"Good. Now set it up. Thank god I always walk around looking perfect!"

"Your humility is admirable." Jimmy said sarcastically.

"Shut up and get ready. We're the first one's here, we've got to take full advantage. It's time Metropolis realized we're not just a paper."

"Ok, rolling in 3..2...1...Go!"

"Lois Lane of the Daily Planet here! Metropolis is under attack! About 20 minutes ago, what can only be described as a giant robot attacked the Goliath National Bank in downtown Metropolis." The camera panned around slowly,capturing the landscape. In the distance were clear yellow lines of tape.

"As you can see, Police have cordoned off the area. Three members of the newly minted Justice League of America arrived shortly after, and the trio have been engaged in a fierce battle with the robot that has destroyed most of downtown Metropolis. Thankfully, because it was early morning most of the buildings weren't fully occupied, and civilians were quickly evacuated thanks to the combined efforts of the Metropolis Fire Department and the Metropolis Police Department, the first ones on the scene."

A loud explosion shook the earth, rattling the camera for a moment.

"Jimmy, watch out!"

There was a loud boom as something crashed into the ground hard, sending dirt and debris flying in his wake. He had fallen not too far from where Lois and Jimmy were. As the dust stirred slowly around him, it floated out of the crater. It was Green Lantern.

"Ow... that actually hurt you tin can!"

Lois scrambled over a large concrete slab to get closer, and Jimmy followed suit. The shoulder mounted camera was heavy but the adrenaline was pumping so hard he barely even noticed.

"Green Lantern, what can you tell us about this threat?"

He turned. Reporters. Of course. He should have known they'd be here. How she even got here so fast, and past the heavy Police cordon he didn't know. On a good day he might stop to chat, but right now there was a job to do.

"Lady,get back behind the Police cordon now, it's not safe here!"

How rude, Lois thought. Her mouth flew open in argument. Just then another figure came crashing down before them, not too far from Green Lantern. Lois and Jimmy coughed as the dirt stirred wildly around them.

"Hawkman, what the hell is that thing? Is it one of yours?" Lantern asked.

"I beg your pardon? One of mine?!" he said as he rose from the crater.

"The ring says that thing's got an alloy composed of the same material as your axe. So what gives?"

Hawkman said nothing, his wings beating slowly as he rose higher into the air.  
He raised the axe over his head and it crackled with energy, then he launched himself back into the fray with admirable tenacity.  
He didn't get far, because Captain Atom came hurtling out of the dust cloud, crashing right into him.

"Whoever or whatever he is, he's strong as hell." Captain Atom commented as he floated skyward, his fists glowing with orbs of white hot energy.  
"Let's see if he's got the firepower to match."  
He brought his hands together and fired a powerful bolt of energy at the android. There was a loud boom and the entire place went up in smoke.

"I think we got him." Lantern commented.

"No. If your ring is correct, we will not defeat him so easily. The metal is virtually indestructible." Hawkman said gravely.

Right on cue, the android levitated from out of the ashes, totally unscathed.

"Shit. What's the word on the others?"said Captain Atom.

"What am I, the comms guy on this team? I don't freaking know! Break right!"

The two split from each other just in time, narrowly missing a massive bolt of white hot energy came at them.

"That looked suspiciously like your energy signature."

"That's because it was."

"Is that even possible?"

"Apparently so. Fan out, we have to keep out of range. Hawkman, you know this material best. How do we destroy it?"

"We.. we cannot. As I have said, it is virtually indestructible."

"Everything has a weakness. Hit it with every move we've ever practiced. We're the heaviest hitters on the team, we can take this tin man." Lantern said as his ring glowed brightly.

"Here comes another heavy hitter." said Hawkman with a semblance of a smile. Lantern and Atom turned. In the distance was Wonder Woman. Her outfit was slightly different. Now she wore blue trousers with her boots and her bracers were larger and heavier looking. There was a shield and sword strapped on her back and she carried a short sword in her outstretched right arm. Her hair was tied back in thick braids. She was dressed for battle.

The android remained completely motionless in the air as it watched Diana's entrance.

"Am I the only one who finds that creepy?" Lantern asked.

"It's observing her. Now's our chance to strike." Captain Atom blasted off so fast Lantern and Hawkman were pushed back by the sound wave. He speared the android into the ground. The android responded immediately, tossing Captain Atom into the base of one of the buildings and smashing him back up through all the floors until they emerged from the roof, then it grabbed him by the throat and reversed the motion.

Lantern whistled. "Thats going to cost a whole lot of tax dollars to repair. It's almost like it wants to wreck everything."

"Are you just going to stand there?" Lois shouted. Lantern turned again.

"You're still here?! Thats it, I'm taking you two back." He enclosed them in a green bubble and flew them over to the Police cordon. It was strange not being shot at by the officers. Looking at their faces he could see they felt just as odd. He flew back to the fight just in time to see Wonder Woman stabbing the android through the chest with a hearty battle cry.

Yes! Finally something had pierced the outer shell.

"Peel that tin can open Wondy!" He shouted as he formed a construct of a giant green chainsaw and joined the battle.

* * *

"Enough." Bruce said.

Alfred swiped the tablet screen again, and the massive monitor went black.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Well, sir, I should think that is self-explanatory."

"They can handle it. Besides, Batman doesn't do daytime."

Alfred sighed. Bruce knew that sigh. An epic lecture was coming. He started walking across the room towards the computer, Alfred following suit.

"Need I remind you Master Bruce, that it was your technology that enabled this android to come to being? Need I remind you sir, that countless lives are at stake here? Must I drag you by the ear to Metropolis? I never thought you would be the type to let someone else clean your mess up for you."

"You heard her. The city centre has been evacuated. The Justice League of America is on the scene."

"So that's it? You're just going to leave them to their fate?."

Bruce stopped walking and glared at Alfred.

"Don't you glare at me young man, you just remember where you learned it from."

They continued walking.

"I think they have this covered. I protect Gotham. That's all."

"Are you listening to yourself Master Bruce? This isn't a gangland warfare. Now is not the time to be concerned with such trivialities."

Bruce continued walking.

"For God's sake man, swallow your pride!"

Bruce stopped again and turned around to face Alfred.

"Excuse me? Just what does this have to do with my pride?"

"You heard me Master Bruce. It's time for you to accept that this"-he motioned at the entirety of the Cave and its contents-"it cannot be done alone. You will need allies one day. You must also accept that this is partly your fault."

They were both silent for a few moments. Finally Bruce spoke.

"You're right Alfred." Bruce said with a smile.

"Glad you finally see it my way."

Bruce continued.

"Maybe I will need allies one day. Maybe. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a massive stock portfolio to go through, and I have several case files that need updating." He said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Alfred sighed again, but this time he sounded...tired.

"If your mother and father were to see you now, they would weep at the man you've become."

He placed the tablet on the computer console and walked out.

Bruce sat down at the computer and opened the first file, going through it for the best part of an hour. Wayne Industries shares were going strong, in fact their value had risen significantly over the past financial year. Waynetech was largely responsible for the increase in...

This is incredibly boring.

He glanced at the tablet beside him.  
He resisted the urge to pick it up.  
It lasted for all of five seconds. Lois Lane, bless her, had somehow found her way back to the scene, with an even better view if it was possible.

"The fight is still going strong here, if its possible the damage is even worse. All members of the team are here, and although the JLA has attempted to take the fight out of Metropolis multiple times, it seems the android is determined to fight right here. What's more, the battle is becoming increasingly one-sided. I must say, we have never before seen anything quite like this. The android seems to share much of the League members abilities. Perhaps what's most chilling is its MO, which has changed from property destruction to focusing solely on the assembled heroes with devastating efficiency. It's almost as if it's adapting to their fighting style." There was muffled speech for a few seconds.

"Hold on...It appears reinforcements in the form of the US Military are being called in." The camera panned out to the horizon. There were conventional ground troops moving in,followed by several tanks and armored personnel carriers. There also seemed to be air support in the form of what looked like Apache gunships and Air Force fighter jets to Bruce's eyes. "It remains unclear what their objective is, as they do not seem to be engaging, merely keeping watch." Lois continued.

"Lois, is that... Isn't that your dad? Standing on top of the tank?" said the cameraman.

"Where? Oh shit... Do not let him see us. He'll kill me if he finds out I'm here."

Bruce turned off the tablet and placed it face down on the console, then he continued working for another 20 minutes, focusing on Waynetech stocks. Sales in the telecommunications department were going strong, as were the...

He glanced at the tablet beside him.

"Damn it." He said as he picked it up again.

This time the footage was much more... explosive.

There was a dazzling array of colors. Emerald green energy blasts, sparks of gold and silver.

A flash of red and gold.

A massive pair of brown wings.

He spotted a... giant green anvil?

He could see the android clearly now. It was a dull bronze color, and it was presently being throttled by... Wonder Woman.

More colorful energy blasts, every spectrum of the rainbow. Something that looked like a giant silver bullet. Shouts. Mangled battle-cries that were picked up by the camera's microphones. Lois Lane wasn't even trying to narrate over the din.

"...Lantern, stick to the plan! Fan out!"

"...how is it doing that!? How is it repairing itself so fast?!..."

"...we can't fan out, that isn't working anymore! Check your 6 Atom!"

"...where the hell is Superman when you need him?"

"...By Zeus,I shall have your head creature!"

"...What is that?! Is that a missile?!"

"...Everyone fall back! Fall back! Incoming!"

There was a deafening explosion, then the whine of fighter jet engines overhead. It seemed the battle had descended into all out chaos.

"If you're just joining us, the team of superheroes known as the Justice League of America has assembled in Metropolis to take down the threat. As more members joined the fray the odds seemed to improve, but now it's gotten worse. The robot is indeed adapting to their fighting styles, but more than that, it appears to be replicating their abilities. Military forces have been forced to engage. I don't know how much longer this can go on-"

A thunderous sonic boom, then the android went down, digging a deep crater several metres long into the ground. Superman appeared, his eyes glowing bright red through the dust as he hovered above the fallen android, his blood red cape billowing in the wind.

Already it was rising from the deep, smoking crater.

"Stay down, damn you!" Hawkman roared angrily, as he launched himself at it. The android shifted to the left and caught his wing at the last moment, tossing him into a billboard with ease, then proceeding to blast Hawkman with red eye beams. He roared in pain as his flesh burned.

That was all Bruce needed to see. With his power levels an android that could replicate his abilities was officially a planetary level threat.

There was no other choice. He would have to go now. But first, he'd have to load up every toy he had. The exo-suit? No... It wasn't ready by a long shot.  
And this wasn't going to be a battle won through sheer force, he could see that.  
If anything, this was a battle that needed a human touch more than raw power.

It needed some smarts, some ingenuity.

Ok, a lot of smarts and ingenuity. Luthor had obviously made a number of adjustments to it, but he was confident he could find a way around it.  
He always found a way.

He pushed the intercom button on the computer console.

"Alfred,cancel all my meetings for today."

"Right away sir. What should I tell them?"

"You're a smart guy, you'll figure something out. One more thing."

"Yes Master Bruce?"

"This doesn't mean you're right."

Alfred chuckled on the other end.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take, sir."

* * *

 **California,Atherton,**

Lex Luthor hated this holiday home.

It was a very nice place, indoor and outdoor pools including a lap pool and sauna, tennis and basketball courts, a kitchen that was bigger than the house he grew up in, and a fully stocked gym. There was a massive library and even a recording studio left over from the last owner, a rapper. The garage could probably hold 10 cars. He looked outside. The water sprinklers puttered slowly, keeping his lawn unnaturally green. The next house was very far away, but he could tell from the occasional sparks of light someone was sunning themselves by their pool. Why can't they use a tanning bed? he wondered.

Perhaps that wasn't quite right. He didn't hate his holiday home, he hated the neighbors.

The way he saw it, there were three kinds of rich people: Blue Blood Aristocrats. People who lost more money in a year than most others would make in several lifetimes, and who had never had to work hard or honestly for their wealth. Bruce Wayne came to mind.

Self Made Men like himself,industrialists, bankers, lawyers, athletes, artists of all kinds. Men and women who built their fortunes on their own ingenuity, talent and skills. These people he respected.

Then there was the third type. The type that most commonly populated these neighborhoods. Rich people who were neither Blue Bloods nor Self Made Men, but something inbetween. They spurned men like him,because he reminded them where they came from not too long ago. They also constantly tried to break into the inner circle.

A futile effort really. Old Money came from railroads, coal, gold,oil and much darker methods that those families would never,ever,ever admit to. As the old saying went, behind every great fortune is a great crime. It didn't matter how long you were rich for or how sophisticated you were, if you didn't make your money from those methods, you would never get in. They simply wouldn't accept you.

Why couldn't these Inbetweeners understand that?

They disgusted him, every time he came here and looked at their orange skin and bleached white teeth, their nip-tuck bodies and One for The Husband One for The Wife sets of cars, their kids who went on Instagram to document their wealth. What was the point of it all?

Money is money. Class meant nothing once you got to a certain number of zero's. You didn't have to be a genius to know that. The Aristocrats may not have accepted Lex into their circle, but they certainly respected him. He believed it was because the only thing anyone cared about at the end of the day was how much you had in the bank, not where your kids went to school or which end of the spoon scooped the soup into your mouth.

He couldn't have guessed that it was because of his disdain for their class that they respected him so much.

Everyone admires the person that just doesn't give a fuck what people think.

Regardless of how he felt about it, this neighborhood had two major perks. It was discreet. And it wasn't in Metropolis.

He poured a generous helping of scotch from the decanter into two heavy tumblers. It was his oldest, over 70 years old, and it had cost him enough money to buy several cars. He inhaled the rich woody scent of the drink. It was only for special occasions. Like today. He carried the two glasses and the decanter into the next room.

"I must say, this is a very nice house."

"Thank you."

"You know most people would have a butler do that for them. Get the drinks I mean."

"I don't really like the notion of having a butler. The less staff I have the less people know what I'm doing. Besides, I never had one."

"Oh?"

"Yes, 'Oh'. Its not like everyone doesn't know I came from less than nothing."

He turned up the volume of the television, cutting off that subject entirely.

"I must say, its performing very well Ivo. I was a little worried when the reinforcements arrived,but its handling them quite nicely. And I'm loving this first person shooter view. It was a good idea to put camera's in its faceplate."

"Thank you."

"Although I have to ask, why can't it replicate all of their abilities? I've observed it only copies Captain Atom's abilities when he attacks it directly, and it's completely unable to replicate Lantern's abilities as well."

"Well, as I had said earlier, it works by genetic coding. It can only copy metahuman abilities that a person has in their DNA. Captain Atom is technically a metahuman, but it appears it is not a genetic ability. It seems Amazo merely absorbs and redirects his energy blasts. Green Lantern is also classed as a metahuman, but it seems it is only the ring that gives him these abilities."

"Hmm. This little exercise is proving to be quite informative."

"Indeed. We can learn a lot about their strengths, and weaknesses. It will prove invaluable in the future."

"Cheers to that."

Luthor smiled at Ivo as they clinked glasses.

Yes, Ivo was smart.

Maybe too smart. He'd have to keep a close eye on him.

In the meantime, he would sit back and watch the show.

* * *

 **A/N: Lex really strikes me as a guy that gives no fucks about anyone's opinion but his own. That makes him an egomaniacal douche bag yes,but in a way Lex actually has a lot of integrity. If you define integrity the same way I do, which is being true to yourself, not necessarily honest or ethical. He knows he's rich, he knows he's smart. What else would he care about really? Other than the destruction of someone who is so obviously much more awesome than he is? I mean he's called Superman. That's bound to rub Mr Endowed the wrong way. Obviously he would never admit to feeling inferior to him, so he'd make Superman evil in his mind. Thus Lex becomes the Hero.  
One of the most complex villains of all time, Lex is an endless contradiction.  
**

 **Read and Review.**


	30. Chapter 30

**12.57PM, Metropolis**

Superman's fists smashed into the android's body again and again, his blows so powerful they propelled it several meters back,leaving ruts in the ground. The irony of the situation didn't escape Superman. Just the other day he had complained that nothing was a challenge anymore. He finished it off with a powerful uppercut, sending the android skyward to Green Lantern, who locked it in a massive safe.

Lantern was sweating.  
He didn't think that was possible.  
This was the most he had ever been tested in the recent past.  
His ring arm trembled slightly.

Diana's arms were covered in angry looking welts. The wounds weren't healing as fast as they should. She suspected there was some low-level magic at play. She and Hawkman had probably engaged the android at close range much more than any of the other heroes.  
Hawkman had the most injuries out of all. He suffered several cracked ribs in the course of the battle but he fought on relentlessly,and he accumulated a large number of cuts and mottled bruises across his torso, most of which were healing rapidly even now. He felt oddly responsible for the android, and he took it on himself to fight hardest.

There was a brief respite as the assembled heroes paused to see if their latest strategy would work.

The green construct shattered, throwing Lantern back several feet, bouncing him painfully on the ground.  
Hawkman swooped in and smacked the android across the jaw with his mace, folding his wings and falling away as Captain Atom charged with a powerful energy blast that pushed it into a brick wall.  
A blur of red and gold came in immediately after, forming a small hurricane that funneled the android up into the air, but it quickly tagged him as he came around on its left and the speedster was knocked into a pile of shattered concrete.

Superman attacked again in tandem with Captain Atom, combining his strength with Atom's energy based abilities in a once successful strategy. Nothing worked twice on the android though, and it quickly blasted Superman in the face with his own heat vision, blinding him for a few seconds, then blasted Captain Atom with concussive energy, pushing him away from it.

"You cannot defeat me."

Captain Atom halted for a second, just a second, but that was all it took. He barely dodged the powerful blast of energy in time. He thought he could overload the android with excess energy, but it was taking everything he had and redirecting it faster than he could give it.  
He needed more time, then he was certain he could overload it. He had more power than a dozen nuclear bombs. Nothing was strong enough to take that much juice.

A barrage of missiles from F-16 jets rained down on the android and the jets soared overhead. The military was still attacking.  
Lantern put down a protective barrier just before the blast hit them.

"Shit! If that thing doesn't kill us those missiles will!" he said.

"Captain Atom, tell the Military to stand down! They're more likely to listen to you. Tell them their airstrikes are hurting more than they help!" Wonder Woman said.

"And if they refuse?"

"Tell them I'll bring them down myself." Superman said as he emerged from the flames, smouldering but unscathed. His eyes glowed red. He looked thoroughly pissed off.

Atom flew off to do just that.

"The creature.. It spoke." Wonder Woman said.

"I heard it too. Maybe we can try reasoning with it." Superman added.

"You really think that'll work?" asked Lantern skeptically.

"It will buy us some time at least. Notice it's stopped attacking us." Hawkman said as he landed beside them. He was bleeding from several scrapes on his torso, but the cauterized wounds on his chest had completely healed.

"Because we stopped attacking it? I don't think it's that easy." said Black Canary.

"Maybe it is." Superman said. As hero of Metropolis he felt it was his responsibility to play peacemaker.

He flew over to the android cautiously. It didn't attack. So far so good.

Now to ask a question that answered every question.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"I am A.M.A.Z.O. And I want what my father wants, to destroy you Superman."

"Your father? Who is your father?" He asked as Wonder Woman and Black Canary circled the android from the back.

In reply his head did a complete 360.

"That is so disgusting." Canary said as she ducked to the side, dodging the red eye beams.

Wonder Woman charged forward, shield raised to deflect the beams, thrusting her sword into the creatures chest, searching for a heart or some vital organ.  
So far only her swords and Hawkman's axe were the only things that could pierce the android's shell, but it repaired the damage in seconds.  
It swatted her aside, knocking her shield away, but she held her ground, unsheathed the other sword and stabbed it in the groin as she ripped the other sword upwards to its belly. The android faltered slightly. Diana sensed a change in the tide of battle.

"Everyone! Hit him with all you have, now!"

Lantern constructed a .50 cal and began firing thousands of rounds into the back of Amazo's head.

Hawkman hacked at the creature's chest with savage fury.

Canary loosed her hypersonic cry straight at the androids face.

Superman hammered away at its stomach together with Captain Atom, who had decided to forgo his energy blasts in favor of brute force.

Wonder Woman continued hacking and stabbing, determined to cut through the shell entirely no matter how quickly it kept repairing itself.

* * *

Flash opened his eyes slowly.

Everything hurt.

His ears were ringing. But he could already feel his body healing itself rose on unsteady feet.

It looked like the latest plan was working.  
For now.  
He had only joined the fight a little over an hour ago, but so far everything they did it countered. The longest they had held their advantage with a new strategy was maybe 40 minutes, and then the android adapted to their style. Their times reduced gradually. Their last moment of advantage had barely lasted half that time.

It seemed to be replicating their abilities.

But it did have some weaknesses. He noticed it could only use one ability at a time, and that it could only replicate the abilities of a person within a certain radius of its optics. He also noticed that it hadn't replicated Lantern's ability, which made sense, and Captain Atom's, which didn't.  
He wasn't sure if it had copied Wonder Woman's abilities, but it didn't look like it. It had copied his speed, and it was yet to copy Canary's cry, but it was certainly going to do that now. It's shell healed itself rapidly, faster than even he did. This needed science. Maybe S.T.A.R Labs would have an answer. Only one way to find out.

* * *

 **S.T.A.R Labs**

This was the easiest smash and grab he had ever had.

Hopefully it was the only smash and grab he would ever have.

Everyone from the security personnel to the janitors to the scientists were glued to the television screens, watching the battle in the city-centre. He was looking for something. He didn't know what, but he would know when he found it. He opened the skylight and looked in.

Camera's.

Everywhere.

He didn't want any evidence of his presence here. He took out a small oval device from his belt buckle and pushed a button, then he placed it back on his waist. It was a signal jammer that was good for about 50 feet. It would distort the voltage,frequency and transmission of electronic devices. He had developed it specifically for 'small scale' electronics such as camera's and handheld communication devices.

After that little episode with his photo on the news, it was one of the first things he had tasked Lucius Fox with manufacturing.

He paused for a few more minutes to make sure there was no one on the floor below, then he fired his grapnel and swung into the room. He rolled with the fall and used the momentum to spring upwards into a full sprint. He covered the distance in a few seconds, then concealed himself behind the door of a lab as it was opened suddenly. Two men in lab coats came out.

"..we'll watch it in the break room. I keep telling them to replace this TV. It's ancient. Maybe now they'll listen to me." Thankfully they opened the door of the room directly across from them without looking back. No time to be relieved. Deciding it was probably a safe bet that the room they had vacated was empty, he decided to start there.

* * *

Flash sprinted through the corridor as fast as he dared.  
Fast enough that he wouldn't register on the camera's, but slow enough that he wouldn't shatter windows with his passing.

He didn't want that attention.

He zoomed through the first few rooms.

Empty.

Empty.

Empty.

Supply closet.

Batman.

Cafeteria.

Empty.

Wait, what?!

He circled back and sprinted double time back to the 5th room.

He opened the door gingerly and peeped inside.

He was hit with a face full of gas.

He retreated, much slower than usual. Whatever it was affecting him somehow. Something heavy landed on his chest. He could see two lenses glowing white like little fluorescent bulbs. The gas was cloying. It made his eyes water,his lungs burn and his mind foggy. It was like chloroform, tear gas and pepper spray combined. But he could feel it purging from his system already.

"Who are you?." asked a deep gravelly voice.

"Flash." He wheezed. Spots danced before his eyes.

Batman weighed his options.

He certainly looked like Flash.  
And he had observed his work.

He was good at his job. Efficient,minimal collateral damage, in and out in a few short minutes, and he didn't like media attention. He was also here, which meant that he was looking for something. That indicated some measure of intelligence and perhaps detective skills. He raised himself off of his chest and placed a small capsule inside one of the bags at his belt.

"Batman. It's an honor to meet you. I knew you had to be real."

"Likewise Flash. Do you mind explaining what you're doing here?"

Flash went on to tell him everything, including his observations.

"Excellent work. Great minds think alike Flash. What you've just described sounds like nanotechnology, and S.T.A.R Labs happens to have something that can help us in that department. But I'll need you to distract the guards once the alarm goes off."

"Alarm?... Uh, why will there be an alarm going off?"

"Well, we can't exactly ask for what we need. We don't have time to explain it to them, and they most likely won't believe he we have the best of intentions. If one of us was a JLA member they might have agreed, but not a rogue hero and a vigilante. All you have to do is keep them busy. Take this, its a communicator. Once I give the word, you can move out."

"...Ok."

Batman ran off down the corridor and turned right. After a few minutes a siren started blaring and the lights turned red.

Flash sprinted in the opposite direction to where the majority of the guards were stationed. He was alternately excited and terrified.

* * *

It didn't take him too long to find it among the other items in the observatory. It was a lot bigger than the photos. It probably weighed a good 100 pounds.

He had benched more weight in his teens, this wouldn't be a problem. He placed 4 timed explosives on the weak points of the display case, then he jumped over the counter and wrapped himself in his cloak. There was a loud explosion and the glass that was several inches thick shattered like frost. He could only hope it wasn't damaged.

The plane appeared above as summoned, hovering over the glass ceiling. He threw up a single adhesive timed bomb and ducked as the shattered glass came raining down. He gripped the disruptor in one arm and fired his grapnel with the other, reeling himself up into the jet.

"Now." He said to Flash as his plane took off, headed towards the heart of the conflict. Below him a red gold streak raced ahead, like a GPS plotting out a course.

* * *

Superman heard the jet engines first. But they sounded different. Quieter. Smoother. Yet more powerful. He couldn't risk turning his head, not when they had the advantage. There was no time. If a missile hit, his impenetrable hide would protect him. Hopefully the rest would be fine.

Wonder Woman heard the jet and she saw it too from her position. A sleek black plane, unlike any she had ever seen before. Right away she knew it wasn't a military plain. It just looked too different. She could see someone inside. But all of this was just a cursory glance before she sliced through the android's left arm. It reattached itself as soon as her sword had slipped through.

Green Lantern was the only one in a position to keep up his attack and watch the approaching plane. He had flown every type of craft from helicopters and rocket propelled planes to stealth fighters and commercial private jets. He had never seen anything like this before. It looked like a Blackhawk, only smaller and sleeker. He was extremely jealous of whoever got to fly that on a regular basis.

"What the hell is that?!"

Flash appeared on the ground before them.

"That, is Batman. The Batman."

"No way! Batman's real?"

"I told you. You owe me 500 bucks."

"Whoa, 500? Did I really-"

"Lantern, now is not the time! It is already adapting! Circle around it! Whoever this Batman is, it appears he is here to help."

Wonder Woman said as she deflected the heat vision with her bracers. She made a mental note to say a prayer of thanks to Hephaestus. She would have been burned multiple times today were it not for his trusty metalwork.

* * *

In the jet, Batman surveyed the battle-scene. He needed a place to get a good shot. He also needed the android to be absolutely still or else the weapon might not work.

"Flash, tell them to hold the android in place. This won't work as well if I don't have a perfect shot."

"You're going to shoot it? From where?"

His eyes scanned the battlefield.  
There was no place that afforded that perfect combination of concealed cover, a perfect angle and unobstructed view.

Fuck it.

"I'm going to shoot it from on top of the plane."

"Seriously? Can you even make the shot?"

"I have to."

"Guys, Batman says to hold it down!"

"Who says what now?"  
Superman asked as his fists blitzed the android's torso with incredible force, leaving dents in its surface but not quite hurting it.

"Wait... He says hold it in place! Not down, in place!"

"Well what does he want us to do that for?" Captain Atom said as he blasted pure heat energy from his fists at the android's back.

This metal was impossibly strong. He had melted reinforced steel with those blasts.

"He...he has a plan."

"How are you even communicating with him?" asked Lantern

"Just...just do it Ok!" Flash yelled.

Everyone that could shared a look that seemed to say, here we go...

Right at that moment the android exploded a bubble of energy outwards, knocking all the heroes away.

It flew off at top speed towards Batman's plane.

Wonder Woman,Superman, Green Lantern, Hawkman and Captain Atom were hot on its heels.

"Why is it doing that?!" asked Flash.

"It can copy abilities and adapt to battle tactics just by watching. You probably shouldn't have spelled out the plan quite so loudly." Black Canary said.

"Oh." Flash said dejectedly.

"Hey, it wasn't your fault. There was no other way. We'll just have to wait and see." She said as she stood beside him. She was looking quite disheveled, Flash could see that underneath the dirt and grime she was actually quite attractive. The leather bodysuit certainly didn't hurt. He observed all this in the space of a nanosecond.

Meanwhile the flying superheroes tackled the android into the ground much like NFL players taking down the man with the ball. It shrugged them all off with frightening ease.

"All right! That's it, no more Mr Nice Guy!" Superman bellowed.

He grasped the android by the legs and smashed it into the ground with a devastating display of brute strength. Several cars in the vicinity were raised several feet in the air and the resultant tremor was felt as far as the beaches of Miami.

But even this wasn't enough to stop the android. It took the blow in its stride, rising with a badly twisted waist and mangled legs that were repairing themselves at an alarming rate.

Hawkman hacked at the androids weakened waist and limbs, and he was joined by Wonder Woman. Both got a little carried away but the android continued crawling out of the incredibly deep crater.

"Lantern,secure him! Now!" Wonder Woman shouted as she and Hawkman were repulsed by twin blasts of energy.

He summoned everything he had left, conjuring up a massive vice to pin the android in place.

"Can you hold him?" Captain Atom asked.

In the distance they could all see Batman clambering onto the top of the plane as casually as if he was climbing the stairs to a kiddy slide and not several hundred feet above the ground.

If he fell all that would be left was a stain.

"I think so..." Lantern said. His arm began shaking. "No!" he shouted as the android shattered the construct.

"I...I'm sorry. I wasn't strong enough to hold him. He's going to kill that guy." He said to Diana with a note of shame in his voice.

"No. Don't apologise. I have something that will hold even this creature." She whipped the lasso from her waist and swiftly twirled a restraining loop, then she spun the rope over her head until it got longer and longer. And longer. Then she loosed it. It seemed to fall forever. The android was already closing the distance. It seemed like the rope wouldn't reach it in time.

Everyone held their breath.

It was no exaggeration to say that the whole country was watching. Every news station worth their salt had pitched tent outside the Police cordon. A few had snuck in with Lois. But none had the bravery, or stupidity depending on how one looked at it, to stand as close to fight as she did.

Jimmy didn't dare blink. With one hand,without taking his eyes off of the sight or moving the shoulder mounted camera, he raised the camera around his neck, flicked the lens cover off and took several shots.

The lasso fell over the androids shoulders. She pulled back hard, tightening the noose and pinning the androids arms together and stopping its advance.

Still no one relaxed.

It wasn't over yet.

Now it was all on Batman.

* * *

Batman hefted the large cannon onto his shoulder.

It was a nanite disruptor.

In theory it worked by negating all residual magnetic energy generated by nanites into the cannon, which then allowed it to absorb the energy and use it as a power source to destabilise even more nanites.  
It was a way of making it work independently.

An external power source would have needed increasingly greater levels of energy to power it.  
S.T.A.R Labs scientists had developed it to test the structural strength of nanobot exo-suits for military use. The power suit project had been shelved because it was deemed to expensive to equip even a small unit of elite soldiers.

Lex was a billionaire, but even he wasn't rich enough to fund this project all by himself, covertly.  
Much of the information was in the hands of the government.  
That meant someone very high up, either stars on a collar or buttons on a suit-likely both-had authorized and helped fund this project.

But he would look into that later.

His AI system also worked with nanotechnology, although not the self-repairing power adapting type. Waynetech chips worked with integrated circuit microchips. He mass produced them, so he needed a way to make the processors for the AI chips smaller, cheaper, and faster. Well, maybe not cheaper. Money wasn't a problem. But they made everything easier.

If this thing worked according to plan, he would basically fry the AI and the nanites in the metal at the same time.

Then it would be a sitting duck.

He hated guns.

He never used them.

Never learned how to use them on principle.

The very thought of them made his skin crawl.  
They were clumsy weapons. Cowards weapons. His aim was superb. Throwing a pointed weapon in a curved arc was surely harder than squeezing something that fired a metal projectile in a straight line.

Except this wasn't a gun. But it worked a lot like one.

Just point and shoot, he thought. How hard can it be?

He squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He squeezed again.

Still nothing.

"Oh you've got to be-"

"Try squeezing the trigger and holding it down." Said Flash on the commlink.

Batman did as he was told. The cannon charged up with a sound like a motor picking up speed.

The Android was straining against the lasso, pulling Wonder Woman forward.

A powerful blue surge of energy shot out of the cannon's mouth, pushing him back a little with its force. The beam struck the android square in the chest. He kept squeezing. The android danced bizarrely for a few seconds as its circuitry was overloaded with the surge of energy, then it stooped over and plummeted towards the ground. He released the trigger and the energy beam cut off immediately.

It smashed into the ground, forming a hollow crater, and lay still.

It had hardly hit the ground before Wonder Woman and Hawkman descended upon it with righteous rage. They hacked, ripped and sliced at the android like crazed butchers.

Captain Atom, Superman and Green Lantern joined in, blasting the metal with everything they had.

Lantern didn't even bother with constructs, just strong beams of green energy. Within a few seconds it was nothing but blackened hunks of smoking metal.

Wonder Woman raised its severed, charred head and roared triumphantly.

"I claim this trophy for Themyscira!"

"She knows she'll have to give that up to S.T.A.R Labs right?" Flash said to Black Canary.

"You really think anyone is going to tell her that?" She replied.

Lantern collapsed onto a giant green pillow below.

"May we never,ever have to do something like that again! God, I don't think I can even fly!"

Superman and Captain Atom landed beside Hawkman and Wonder Woman.

"It's really over. After all those hours. Just like that." Superman said with disbelief.

"I'd say its just getting started." Hawkman said as he eyed the sea of reporters clambering over the totally wrecked environment to get closer to them.

It was perhaps the most unnerving sight any of them had seen all day.

Everyone turned as they heard the plane engines.

The jet was leaving.

Fast.

"That guy has the right idea." Captain Atom said with a sly grin.

"Was that the Batman?" Wonder Woman asked.

"Yes it was." said Flash.

"Why did he leave?"

"He's not exactly like the rest of us. He operates by a different set of rules."

"You sound like you admire him." Green Lantern said.

"I do."

"Fanboy." Lantern coughed behind his fist.

"Whatever Lantern. You owe me 500 bucks."

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this took so long. Batman didn't interact with them, yes. I know a lot of people wanted to see that. But I honestly believe he would just get the job done then get the hell out of there. If there is no real need to hang around or interact, he won't. Also press. Batman doesn't do photo-ops and interviews.  
But the Trinity will meet. The story isn't over yet. Also, Nth metal has mystical properties, hence the low-level magic at play.  
**

 **Read and Review.**


	31. Chapter 31

**8.57AM,S.T.A.R Labs**  
 **One Week Later**

Steve was having one hell of a week.

Literally every major news network in the country was blowing up the hotline almost non-stop requesting interviews or more information, the White House was bombarding him with more or less the exact same requests, civilians were happy that their lives were saved but they were also extremely pissed off at the destruction of their city, workplaces, and vehicles. They wanted to know what was being done about it.

Perhaps worst of all, Batman had completely ignored Federal summons requiring him to appear before a special committee made up of senators and Supreme Court justices, to answer questions on how he breached a government facility and stole extremely expensive, sensitive, government property.  
Steve really thought they should just leave it alone.  
He returned what he stole, and he only stole it in the first place to stop a deadly, destructive threat. All of this was nothing but an embarrassed government lashing out in any way it could.

But he couldn't think in that way anymore. He was now The System.

It was an understatement to say he was feeling pretty stressed out.

He hadn't shaved in days, and he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten a proper meal at a table, with actual cutlery and crockery. He hadn't slept much either, mostly shuttling between home and work only to change his clothes and maybe have a quick shower. He had taken to sleeping in the car or on the plane during long trips. Sometimes it got so bad he slept at his office. He hadn't even seen Diana. They talked on the phone when they could but that wasn't nearly enough. Both of them were very busy with their duties. He should have foreseen that. But things were so peaceful just a few weeks ago.

Stupid. You of all people should know the shit always has the potential to hit the fan at light speed.

He almost missed the days when his biggest worry was not dying.

Almost.

He ran into someone with a lab coat on his way out of the building. A bald, chocolate skinned man with eyeglasses.

"Colonel Trevor."

"Yes." He droned as he marched down the corridor.

"Sir, it's about the TV in the rec room-"

"Look, I'm sure you're a nice guy, Mr..."

"Dr Irons. John Henry Irons."

"Right, Dr Irons, unless this is about something very important happening right this second, I really don't have time for it. And I don't even think I'm the right guy for that sort of thing. I have some very important things to do today."

"Um.. Ok, I guess it can wait. It's not that important. I didn't think of that, sorry. You must be under a lot of stress."

Steve turned to him, his eyes nearly watering at the empathy extended to him by another human being, a complete stranger. It was a simple act, but it meant a lot. He smiled tightly and took a deep breath before stepping outside.

As it had been everyday of the week, there was a gaggle of reporters standing outside the steps. Thank god there were no camera's. He didn't know how Diana managed all the cameras. And the flashing. God the flashing. Even in the daytime.

He made a mental note to have a gate with a perimeter fence erected. And heavily armed guards manning the entrance.

"Colonel Trevor, what can you tell us about the restoration efforts for Metropolis?"

Finally. A question he could answer authoritatively. He actually stopped walking, surprising the reporters.

"I just received word this morning that Lex Luthor and his company Lexcorp have pledged all their resources in helping the government rebuild Metropolis. They will spare nothing in the way of technology and equipment, manpower in the form of engineers and technicians, and of course much needed billions." This last part elicited some laughter. Time to slip away while it was still good.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm very busy right now-" He practically sprinted to his car and slammed the door shut.  
He sighed with relief and leaned back in his seat.

"Drive." He said tiredly.

"Where to sir?" asked a female voice. His eyes shot open. He sat up.

"Selina? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Wow. 'Hell'. You must really be stressed out if you've resorted to using such foul language."

"This isn't the time to kid with me Selina. Where were you? Where have you been all this time? IS this about last week? You know I couldn't send you and Katana out, you would almost certainly have died. That thing gave the most powerful beings on Earth a hard time. Is that what this is?"

"God no. When have I ever complained about not being given a job to do?"

"Then what is it?"

"Let's take a ride Steve. You and I need to have a little chat." She put the car into gear and sped off, leaving skid marks on the tarmac.

* * *

 **Gotham City, Wayne Enterprises**

"Mr Wayne."

"Yes."

"There's a... Clark Kent here to see you."

"Who?" He said, feigning ignorance.

"Clark Kent, from the Daily Planet. He says you know him."

"Oh yes, that Clark. Tell him I'm not in."

She frowned at him and opened her mouth to speak.

"Alright alright. Send him in. I don't want stale coffee and dry bagels for the rest of my life."

Clark walked into the room with an amused expression on his face. Naturally he had heard every word. He was dressed simply, in a white t-shirt and red lumberjack shirt with the sleeves rolled up, faded jeans and a pair of black sneakers. He was wearing glasses. Bruce couldn't place it but he looked... different somehow.

He sat down.

"No."

"How about 'Hello Mr Kent, how are you this morning? or 'What can I do for you Mr Kent?"

Bruce stared back with a deadpan expression. Clark continued smiling. Finally Bruce sighed, leaning back in his seat.

"Look Kent, I'm a very busy man. Make this quick."

"I can see that." Clark said, his eyes lingering on the pile of magazines beside the table.

"I think you know by now that I'm not what I seem to be. Even the people in this building know that I'm not a complete idiot."

"Yes. I'm sure they really do know the real you."

"It's not going to happen."

"Don't you find it strange that I haven't actually raised anything for you to deny?"

"What else could you possibly be here for hm? A job interview?"

"No, though I am out of work for a while until my office is repaired. I... This is embarassing. I lost the commlink. It's just... It's so small y'know?"

Bruce was silent for a few moments. "I see. I thought-"

"You thought I was here to try and convince you to join? Something so heavily backed by the government? I think it's pretty clear, to everyone, what your stance on such matters is."

"I returned the damn thing, didn't I? I don't see the point of going before some 'committee' to walk them through what I did, all so they can try and save face by looking like they're being proactive."

"You heard about Lexcorp?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Really? The thought of working in a building repaired by the guy who tried to have me killed is...sickening. The same guy that stole your tech and almost succeeded in killing us all with it. And now he's going to look like the greatest, kindest, most benevolent man ever."

"I know."

"You're not much of a conversationalist, are you?"

Silence.

"You'll get another commlink in your mail this afternoon. Try not to lose this one." It was a dismissal. But it was more than he had expected.

He was about to rise from his seat when Bruce spoke.

"You're going to join them, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't really have a choice. If I want to keep doing what I do without being hounded by everyone and their grandmother, I'll have to join them."

"You know you don't have to."

"Yes I do. We can't all be like you...Bruce."

"They fear me too."

"Yes, but they don't fear you like they fear me. You're the great unknown. The Bogey Man. I am the overpowered alien that's just one bad day away from turning completely evil and taking over the world."

"Fair enough."

Clark rose to leave. When he got to the door Bruce spoke again.

"Kent."

"Yes, I know, stay out of Gotham-"

"Next time, let me know beforehand when you plan on coming here. The details to that will be in the mail too."

"Alright." Was all he could say before he left the room.

Definitely more than he expected.

Bruce swiveled his chair around to watch the street below. He waited until Clark stepped out of the building and got into a bus, then he waited until the bus drove completely out of sight. Only then did he turn his chair back around.

He picked up the phone and called his property manager.

"Phil, hello! Oh, you know, same old, same old... Yes, I went there the other day... Ha! You don't say? Nooo... He didn't...Brown shoes with a black suit? Criminal. Absolutely criminal... Anyway, I was wondering if you could look into the owner of this building in Metropolis..."

* * *

"...so you see Steve, you know and I know this superhero gig just isn't for me. Steve? Are you here?" she snapped her fingers before his face.

"I hear you Selina. And I completely understand. But what do you want me to do? I can't make miracles happen. I mean it's not like you signed a contract, but you can't just leave, y'know?"

They were sitting outside a small coffee shop.  
Steve had no idea where they were, except that it was somewhere on the outskirts of Metropolis.

It was a fairly quiet place, the few people there were glued to a smartphone or a tablet.  
The air was woody and fresh with the scent of pine needles.  
The atmosphere was very relaxed. It was hard to believe Metropolis was just a few miles away.

"You can make miracles happen. You're the one who put this team together in the first place, then you found a leader for it, then you got it authorized. What happened last week was huge. If it wasn't for the JLA who knows what would have happened? Maybe we'd all be attending a memorial service for Superman."

Steve smiled sadly.

"Somehow I doubt they would have held a memorial service for him."

"Stop deflecting compliments you idiot. Now is not the time to be humble Steve."

"This is exactly the time for that. The JLA may have saved the day, but they wrecked everything first. That's on me."

"Yeah, well, someone once told me sometimes things get a lot worse before they start getting better."

Steve sighed.

"All right Selina. I'll see what I can do. With any luck I can finagle a pardon and have your prior sentences completely revoked. Maybe this is for the best anyway. A fresh start for you. I don't want anymore people getting hurt because of me." He sounded sad.

"Look, I'm not very good at helping people up when they're down, but I will tell you this... We're not kids Steve, we're not mindless automatons either. Each and every one of us knows what we're doing, what we're getting into. You're not some evil puppet master pulling all the strings. Don't be so hard on yourself. At the end of the day you're just another soldier following orders."

"You're right. You really are bad at picking people up when they're down." Steve said with a grin.

"Ugh. There's the Steve I know. Sadly."

He placed a few bills on the table. "I need to use the bathroom. Be right back." He went inside.

When he returned, the table was empty and the car was no longer in the parking lot. He went up to the barista to ask if he had seen anything.

"Oh, your daughter? She left. Said you'd catch a bus." He sounded extremely chilled out.

"My daughter? Do I really look that old?"

"No...It's just, you gave off a real paternal vibe, y'know? Or big brother like, y'know? And she's like, really petite, y'know? Anyway, she took the keys and drove off almost as soon as you went into the john."

"And you didn't think this was strange?"

The barista ran a hand lazily through his shoulder length hair and shrugged.

"Of course you didn't.." Steve mumbled under his breath.

"What?" the barista asked lazily.

"I said when's the next bus back to town?"

"At least an hour man."

"Great. Just great." He reached into his pocket to call a cab. Except there was no phone. Selina had incredibly light fingers.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot, she told me to give you this. She also said to take it easy, and to 'not die of a heart attack because of some overpaid government fat-cats.'"

Steve turned.

It was a cup of coffee with a heart drawn over the top cream, and a blueberry muffin, his favorite.

"Th-thankyou." He stammered. He could feel his eyes almost watering again.

Jesus. All this Chair-force stuff is making me soft and sentimental.

He held the coffee and muffin in his hands.

When did she even learn his favorite flavor? She was more observant than he thought.  
How about that. He would actually miss her when she was gone.

Steve sat down to enjoy his coffee and muffin in peace as he waited for the next bus.

* * *

 **A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I don't think Selina would fit in such a setting, or be comfortable in it. I'm sure almost everyone will agree. She's not an out and out supervillain but she's not a hero either. Just a good person who does bad things more often than she does good things. Don't worry though, this doesn't mean her character is gone.**

 **And yes, Batman will take a great deal of convincing in both words and deeds.  
I remember in the Animated Series how he was always such a reluctant member of the League, showing up mostly when they really really needed him. That interpretation has always stuck with me. **

**I am truly humbled that people love this story. That really means a lot.  
**

 **Read and Review.**


	32. Chapter 32

**10.57PM,Metropolis S.T.A.R Labs**

Amazo's parts had been carted off to S.T.A.R Labs almost immediately after it's destruction at the hands of the JLA. It would be an understatement to say that everyone at the Labs was excited about the haul. This was the bleeding edge of nanotechnology and cybernetics. The possibilities were near limitless. They could build everything from self-repairing machines to nanites that could cure diseases such as cancer.

There was a team of scientists and technicians assigned to the case, headed by 2 specialists. They had been working overtime to try and unlock any information that the charred remains held. There were about 16 men and women in total, each group split into three's at different work stations, studying alternate parts of the android.

The first specialist was a lean man with brown hair, blue eyes and a pencil thin mustache. He was Professor T.O Morrow, a brilliant scientist, and just like his name suggested, he was a visionary in the field of robotic engineering. He was one of the first people that had been called in from Central City to examine the remains. Not much was known about his background, but if anyone could provide some in depth answers on the android, it was him.  
He seemed to know everything about everything when it came to advanced technology.

The second specialist was Dr John Henry Irons.  
He didn't look like the average scientist. He was huge, 6 feet 7 with a muscular physique. He had studied at Yale on a sports scholarship,graduating with honors and getting employed on a very lucrative contract by weapons manufacturing firm Amertek until his eventual resignation.  
He was an unparalleled mechanical engineer and ballistics expert, and he was just as good with computers. Currently he designed non-lethal weapons for the Special Crimes Unit in Metropolis under his company Steelworks. If you needed something designed, rebuilt or deconstructed, especially if it had weapons of any kind, Dr Irons was your man.

There was a 3rd specialist who by all rights should have been there, but was nowhere to be seen.

Professor Ivo was the leader in the nanotechnology department, but no one had been able to reach him at all. He was the man that could give them more answers than any other. His expertise was sorely missed, and his presence-or lack thereof-did not go unnoticed by anyone.  
But Ivo was notoriously reclusive and anti-social even by the standards of their community, and big time scientists like him were always busy anyway, so no one thought too much of it.

It was a miracle Dr Irons _and_ Professor Morrow were both available.

And so the team continued with their work as best as it could. They also received more assistance in the form of two promising scientists: Dr Will Magnus, one of Morrow's brightest students,who was doing revolutionary things in the robotics and cybernetics industry much like his mentor, and Dr Silas Stone, a newly recruited S.T.A.R Labs scientist who could work out how just about any type of technology that was put before him worked. They were among the junior scientists there but anyone could see the two had promising careers ahead of them.

Presently the two of them were in the break room.

Magnus was very flamboyant by scientist standards. He drove a convertible Maserati,he was a snappy dresser and a ladies man, and he had a penchant for smoking from a pipe. That coupled with his strong forearms gained from riveting countless screws was an endless source of humor for the staff. Many Popeye jokes had flown about since his arrival.  
Like all Uber-confident men he took it in his stride.

Stone was the textbook genius scientist. Quiet and reserved, with a work ethic that bordered on unhealthy. He was currently spooning sugar into his coffee mindlessly. He had been awake and on his feet for almost 18 hours straight, pausing only to eat something. Magnus stopped him when the sugar began forming a hill in the tiny cup.

"You need to take it easy there Stone."

"Hm?"

"We don't have to unlock the secrets of the universe today. You don't have to work so hard."

"Yeah." Stone said absent-minded as he walked back to the lab. Magnus shook his head, then he rose from his seat and intercepted him.

"You keep going like that you'll be a dead man. Have a seat. Relax. You've been busting ass for like a day and a half. You deserve a break."

Stone looked like he was going to put up a fight, then he collapsed into a seat with visible relief, his arms gripping the rests. Magnus noticed the glint of gold on his finger.

"Got the old ball and chain already?"

"Hm... Oh yeah. 10 years now."

"10 years? At your age?"

"High school sweetheart." Stone said with a sleepy smile. It was the first time Magnus had seen him smile.

"Kids?"

"One. A boy. Victor. How about you?"

"Me? I'll never get married."

"Never say never."

"Yeah... How about that andy?" he said, referring to the android.

An alert look came into his previously drowsy eyes.  
"It's a tough nut to crack, I'll tell you that. Never seen anything like that in my life."

"You and me both Stone. I'm a pretty smart guy if I do say so myself, and I am a little stumped. That almost never happens. This is some high grade stuff. I don't even think it's Earth tech."

"Me either. It's just too advanced. And the metal, what is it? I've never seen an alloy that strong. Shame about the head. It would have made an interesting study."

"I heard we'll be getting it tomorrow. Wonder Woman can claim the trophy when we've researched the hell out of it."

"They really are something aren't they?"

"Who?"

"Metahumans."

Magnus scoffed. "Machines are more interesting to me. Give me a sentient robot any day."

"We don't have those."

"Not yet we don't."

"One day eh?"

"One day."

* * *

 **11.00PM,Themysciran Embassy**

Steve and Diana sat at the balcony outside her bedroom, sampling treats that had been brought in from Paradise Island.

This was the first time they had been together-alone- in a long time.  
The duties of both seemed to conspire to keep them apart.

But they were trying.

"Ok, I will admit, that was some pretty strong stuff." Steve said as he set down the empty beer mug.

"And the taste?"Diana pressed.

"Yes, it does taste a lot better than any beer I've ever tasted. Very rich and creamy. Almost buttery. What on earth do you use to brew it?"

"Just barley, hops and water. But all fresh produce on the Island is of an exceedingly high quality."

"I'll say."

"Now the mead."

She poured a generous helping into a goat horn.

"Very ethnic." Steve commented. Diana smiled.

"It's really sweet."

"It is made from honey."

"Yeah? Your bees must be on steroids." He drained the horn in one gulp.

"Take it easy Steve. I have blacked out on this mead many times before."

Steve was feeling good. Feeling buzzed.

Sadly they still had to discuss work issues.

Like the recruitment for the Justice League of America for starters.  
He wasn't certain about anything, but from their brief interaction he thought Flash would join.  
He was less certain about Superman. He had also left shortly after they had completed the objective. He couldn't blame him. He had spent every day of his life as a superhero being criticized or hunted by the media, military and police forces alike.  
Batman he was sure about, but not in a good way.

There was also the small matter of the android's head. He was probably the only man that could ask her-without any fear-to give it up. He cleared his throat.

"About the recruitment for the JLA, how do you think we should go about it? I'm just a glorified errand boy really, so I'll leave the major decisions to you."

"Yes, I have been thinking about that too. Green Lantern seems to have a rapport with the Flash, and I believe they operate from the same city. I shall ask him to speak to Flash. Superman I do not want to force. He is in an awkward position. I think it is best for him to come to us. Pursuing him might have the opposite of the intended effect. As for Batman... he will be the most difficult but I think he can be persuaded to join."

"You really think so? He strikes me as a guy that likes to work alone."

"No one can do what we do alone. Not even the most powerful of us."

"Somehow I don't think he wants anybody's help."

"Perhaps not. But we may need his. I will not force our aid upon him, but I will at least try and get him to help us, even if it will be on the odd occasion. Perhaps we can make him an honorary member to begin with."

"'To begin with'?"

Diana looked at him as if he was mad.

"Well yes of course. Until such a time as he is willing to become a full member."

Steve shook his head with an amused expression.

"You're not going to give up on this, are you?"

"We all have a responsibility to play our part in the new world that is coming. I will just have to make him understand that."

"Hey, like I said, I'll leave those bits to you. I'll just do the paper work. So, uh, S.T.A.R Labs needs the head that you-"

"Claimed as a trophy? Yes, I suspected they might. I have it here. Just let me get it." She went into the bedroom, past that to go down the stairs, and further down into the basement. She picked up the head, tossing it up and down like a basketball with a reminiscent smile on her face. It was the first major threat she had the honour of helping to defeat.

Something fell out of the head, about the size and weight of a cell phone. It was the AI chip. She picked it up and wiped the layer of soot off of it.  
The tiny metal chips were scorched and the plastic bits that had melted from the combined heat energy of all the energy beams that destroyed the android had melted and solidified in irregular gooey shapes.

But the metal plaque that bore the name of the manufacturer was largely undamaged.

She read it and her eyes widened.

* * *

Out on the balcony, Steve was regretting drinking all of the beer and the horn of mead. He was feeling it now. The warmth spread from his stomach to every nerve in his body. It felt...divine. Not in the way that snobbish people described everything from decor to food, but actual divinity. He guessed it was the magic that infused everything on the Island.

 _I should have eaten something before I came here._ He rose. His legs felt like they were made of jelly and his head swam. He staggered forward and leaned against the rails of the balcony.

 _Noooooooo way I'm going back home now. Not even if the bike could ride itself._

He would have to sleep here. Or maybe she could fly him home. Which would be less awkward?

He staggered backwards and collapsed into the seat. The buzz was ramping up incredibly fast.  
He should have known better than to drink at the same rate as Diana.

Water. He needed water. There was a bathroom in here.  
If he just ran some water on his face he would be fine.

Somehow he made it to the bathroom and switched on the faucet, but he could barely stand at the sink, so he leaned over the bathtub and turned on the taps, then he placed his head under them. Right away he knew it wouldn't work. He could also feel the darkness creeping in. He hadn't blacked out in a very long time. He hoped he wouldn't drown.

* * *

Diana came back to the room and heard the faucets running. Steve wasn't in his seat on the balcony either. She put everything together immediately. In the bathroom she found him with his head under the faucets, barely conscious. She pulled him out.

He was mumbling.

"I told you to take it easy, didn't I? If something makes me drunk, imagine what it would do to you."

"I was...stressed out...Needed the release." He slurred.

"You will just have to sleep here."

Steve protested weakly.

"Oh please Steve. It is not that big of a deal. And it is not like you can do anything about it anyway, right now you are my prisoner." she added with a note of humor.

"Fine...but...wake me at...7." He slurred again before he passed out.

She carried him in her arms to the bed, then she removed his coat and shoes. She sat down on the other side of the bed and took out the chip from the folds of her dress.

There had to be an explanation for this. Bruce Wayne just didn't seem like the type of person to do this. Her instincts always led her true. And right now they were telling her to keep quiet about this until she knew more. In the meantime,she placed the chip inside a small chest she had brought with her from the Island, locking it and placing it deep under the bed.

She would need answers. Only one person could give them.

* * *

That person was presently knee deep in shit, literally.

Batman ran as fast as he could in the water, following the sound of screams and splashing water. There had been a string of gruesome murders originating from the sewers of Gotham City.  
The newspaper photos alone would have made most men think twice about confronting whoever or whatever was responsible-let alone the official photos in the police files that he had received thanks to Gordon-but he wasn't most men.

The GCPD had sealed the area off immediately after the first wave of killings. The public knew little about the murders, only that they were exceedingly violent in nature. The Gotham Gazette and other papers were spinning a sensational story about a cannibal living in the sewers.

This was a lucky break really. He had caught something on his police scanner, a garbled distress call from the cops assigned to protect some maintenance workers who had to repair a ruptured pipe.  
They sounded like they were under attack.

It all felt a little too convenient. A crucial sump pipe getting damaged in the very place where all the murders took place? They should have taken greater precaution.

His feet sloshed loudly in the filthy water.  
No time for stealth when someone was so obviously in danger.  
The beam from his torch cast eerie shadows against the walls.  
Fat sewer rats scattered at his approach.

The screams were getting louder.

He was getting closer.

He rounded the bend and was almost knocked over by a terrified man who's clothes were badly torn.  
He had on a safety helmet with a beam and he carried a bloody pickaxe in his hands.

He wasn't getting closer. They were coming to him.

He swept his torch beam over him, quickly assessing the injuries the man might have. Nothing too serious. Some bumps and scrapes. A hell of a lot better than what the victims looked like.

"Run." He said. The man didn't have to be told twice.

Gunshots rang out, then angry growling sounds, then screaming.

The dark shadows playing on the walls told the story.

The body of a policeman was thrown not too far ahead of him.

The face was ripped clean off, exposing the bloodied skull.

There were some scraps of flesh and hair still sticking to it.

That was more like the photos he had seen.

He flashed his torch beam straight ahead, from bottom to top. First was a pair of tattered jeans stretched tight over legs that were thicker than his arms. The beam swept higher. A pale white belly, scaly skin, an incredibly broad chest and shoulders, and a hideous,reptilian face.

 _Well, now I've seen it all._

He was huge.

Definitely 7 feet or larger.  
He could only be described as a were-crocodile, but his face was distinctly human in appearance, despite the razor sharp teeth that jutted out of his lower jaw and the cold reptilian eyes.

He roared and lunged towards him.

 _Can crocodiles even roar?_ he wondered as he cartwheeled to the side, dropping his torch in the process.

He lowered the night lenses in his cowl.  
Everything was a sickly green and somewhat blurry, but at least he could see.

It had fallen very silent.

He tried to remember everything he knew about crocodiles.

American crocodiles-scientific name Crocodylus acutus-were well armored with tough, scaly skin.  
They were either gray-green or olive-green with long, slender snouts, which distinguished them from alligators. Also unlike the alligator, the fourth tooth on the bottom jaw of the American crocodile is visible when its mouth is closed.

Their diet consisted mainly of small fish, invertebrates, reptiles, birds and mammals.  
This one clearly favored mammals overall.

American crocodiles were found in southern Florida, the Caribbean, southern Mexico and along the Central American coast south to Venezuela. They were typically shy, more docile than other types, and they stayed away from people.

So this guy didn't fit. In any way.

But he was also humanoid. Obviously the normal rules wouldn't apply to him.

 _What else?_

They had fairly long lifespans. 70 years minimum.  
They could move much faster than he could in the water, about 20mph.  
Their average mass was anywhere between 150-450 pounds.

They also had a very, very keen sense of smell.

Batman stood completely still, every sense on high alert. Something burst out of the water beside him. He leaped back, just in time before a huge fist came crashing down on the concrete.

"Leave me alone! Why won't you all just leave me alone!" He roared.

 _He can talk. The plot thickens._

"You've murdered people. You have to answer for that." He said as he raised his fists and assumed a kickboxing stance.

The were-crocodile came lunging forwards again, snapping its teeth just over his head.

He ducked and fired two quick jabs to its soft underbelly.

It was about as soft as a sandbag.  
The blows pushed him back a few steps, but didn't faze him.

He laughed coldly.

"You think you can beat me? Killer Croc has shit bigger turds!" He roared as he swatted Batman aside with much greater speed than he had anticipated from a man of his size.

His shoulder crashed into the wall painfully and his left arm instantly went numb.

But he could hardly feel anything, the adrenaline was in full effect now. He ducked the next blow as he popped his dislocated shoulder back into place, then he pulled on his promethium knuckle dusters and resumed his fighting stance.

"You've got balls man, but you're gonna need more than that." Croc teased.

Batman launched a punch from the base of his feet straight to the solar plexus of Croc, who doubled over in pain, gasping in disbelief. He followed up with a spinning heel kick to the face, a hard left cross to the side of the head and a powerful right uppercut.

Croc fell back in the water, dazed but still conscious. He could taste blood in his mouth. He had bit himself.

"You son of a bitch! I'm gonna kill you!"

He got up and threw himself at Batman, but this time he had anticipated the move and he stuck his leg out at the last moment, tripping Croc face first onto the concrete.

He was out of the water now. He had lost his main advantage.  
Batman was the superior fighter but Croc still had the edge on strength and speed.

He had to finish this quick, and get the hell out of here before the cops showed up.

He stomped hard on his face twice, but once again Croc surprised him with his speed and strength, gripping his foot and flinging him in an arc over his head, smashing him into the concrete beside him.

If he got caught in a hold that was it. He would be crushed to death.

Batman swiftly switched into a Jiu Jitsu move and got Crocs arm in a lock, wrapping his legs tightly around his neck and squeezing his thighs as hard as he could.

It was like crushing iron.

He wondered if the hold would penetrate to the carotid arteries.  
Croc wasn't down for the count yet.  
With an impressive show of strength, he lifted Batman up with his one arm and slammed him down into the ground several times. He didn't seem to be getting any weaker.

That's when he remembered crocodiles could hold their breath for a very long time.  
He was humanoid, but maybe he was Croc enough for this not to have any effect.

Batman did what most humans do when something doesn't work.

He hit Croc, hard.

He smashed the heel of his boot into Croc's temple again and again even as his other leg tightened the grip around his neck, pushing Croc's throat deeper into the back of his knee, flexing his leg to increase the pressure on the arteries.  
After a minute or two the strategy began to have some effect.

Croc weakened, and eventually passed out. He held on tight for another minute to make sure he was really out cold.

Batman rose as fast as his screaming body would allow him.

He turned Croc over-he was incredibly heavy- and swiftly bound his hands, feet, shoulders and neck in restraining loops using the spare high tensile cord he kept for the purposes of his grapnel.  
He was certain that would hold him.  
Then he turned off the night lenses on his cowl and picked up the flashlight from the water, turning it on and shining the beam around.

Lot's of bodies.

Some looked and smelled like they had been here awhile, some were obviously from tonight.  
The maintenance team and Police escort must have run into his lair when they were searching for the fault in the pipes.

It really had just been a coincidence.

He returned to the were-crocodile's unconscious body.  
He wouldn't be out for long.

 _Better harvest what I can while I can._

He pulled out a syringe and drew some blood.  
It took some time to get the needle to penetrate even in the softest of spots.  
Then he sliced off a bit of scaly skin and placed it in a small transparent bag he used for collecting evidence.  
Next he took a swab of saliva, then he used a special adhesive tape to lift a hand print, which he placed carefully in a small pocket at his waist.

Satisfied, he rose and walked with an alternate route through the network of sewers.

He knew this entire system by heart. T  
here were 3 different exit points he could use, 2 of which led to openings not too far from the Manor.  
He activated the tracking beacon on his belt.

The car would come and pick him up.

He took one last glance at the man that called himself Killer Croc. It sounded like a stage name. Like something a wrestler would have.

Blackgate Prison wouldn't hold him, he was much too dangerous even for the animals they kept in there.

Perhaps Belle Reve.  
But that was for more high profile, global or at the very least national scale security threats.

He would likely go to Arkham Asylum, the newest in the line of prisons cum rehabilitation centers run by renowned psychiatrist Jeremiah Arkham.  
It was commissioned just a few months ago with a lot of pomp and colour, specifically for dangerous supercriminals, human and metahuman alike.

He had attended in his capacity as Bruce Wayne.  
Arkham was a bit of an oddball,his style seemed bizarre... Electro-shock therapy and sensory deprivation were rumored to be some of his most widely used methods.

But who was he to judge?

If Arkham found out what he was doing all night every night, he would probably throw him in a cell with Killer Croc.

* * *

 **A/N: Dr Will Magnus, of Metal Men. Always liked this guy, I always felt he was kind of like a mix of Reed Richards and Tony Stark, but more Reed than Tony. Barely. Sadly most people don't know him, even hardcore DC fans. Shame because he's a very cool character. He's like Macgyver with 100% focus on science. I loved the Metal Men run that pitted them against the Gogoloth and Will against his brother David. Definitely one of the gems in 52( I think it was 52). I'd definitely recommend reading it.**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Batman and Wonder Woman meeting, and more rogues.**

* * *

 **1.57AM, Gotham City**

"Hello? Anybody there? Hello? Hello?"

"Start talking." said a gruff voice from the darkness. It didn't sound friendly.

"Who..who's there?"

"Who do you think?"

"HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"Scream all you want. No one will come and save you. Only I can save you."

He tried to move. It was pointless. His bonds were too tight. He was trussed up like a pig, his ankles and wrists bound together with plastic safety locks. Those things always looked flimsy until you tried to break them. As if it wasn't enough his hands and feet were lashed to each other with electrical wires and he was suspended upside down on some sort of hook. His ...everything was killing him.

They had been sitting playing cards and shooting the shit, waiting for the next shift to move in and relieve them from guard duty. What they had been guarding was roughly $12 million worth of uncut heroin. Out of nowhere the lights went out. His eyes hadn't even adjusted to the change when something big and black came crashing through the glass. They all knew the score. In this city, if the sun had set, it could only be one thing. He had picked up his M4 and emptied the clip, as did everyone else, to no avail. It was true what they said. Bullets didn't work on the Batman. You may as well try shooting a shadow.

Men started dropping fast once they stopped to reload. The room suddenly filled with smoke and he couldn't see a thing, but he certainly heard it. Some went out loudly, with loud cries that were silenced by sickening crunches and snaps. Through it all was the occasional burst of fire from automatic weapons. Many more went out without a sound.  
That was even scarier. Over a dozen armed men were floored in a matter of seconds. He felt sure he would shit when the black mass finally loomed up over him. He was taken out just like the rest. Quick and painful.

When he came to, he found himself in his present position. His ribs ached, and he could feel bruises forming all over his torso. It was like he had been hit in every possible place that would hurt. His head throbbed. He could feel a lump forming on the back of his head. His inverted position certainly didn't help. The lump throbbed with every beat of his heart.  
He couldn't see. His face had been covered by some sort of bag. He didn't know what to expect next, and that was perhaps the most terrifying thing of all. For the second time, he felt sure he would shit.

He decided to change tack.

"Look man, you don't know whose stash you're fucking with. These are some very big fish. Fucking sperm whales. Just let me go, and we'll forget this ever happened, ok?"

Silence.

Then the sound of a metal chair being dragged across the wooden floorboards, real slow. It stopped somewhere before his face. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping the blow wouldn't hurt too much. He had never taken a steel chair to the face before.

But the blow never came.  
Instead the metal creaked as someone sat down in the chair. For a long time there was no sound.

When Batman spoke again it came as a shock, like ice cold water splashed in his face.

"Here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me everything you know,and I will consider not throwing you out of this building."

"You wouldn't do that. You wouldn't kill me."

"You'll survive the fall. But you'll be eating through a tube in your throat and shitting in a pair of adult diapers for the rest of your miserable existence as a vegetable. And every day the nurse comes to change your nappy and powder your bottom, you'll remember that all of it could have been avoided if you had just answered some simple questions."

"Bullshit. You're bluffing." No sooner had he said the words than the metal chair clattered to the ground and Batman rose. He was suddenly picked up and carried across the room. Next thing he knew he was tossed through a window. He screamed for a second before he hit the hard metal balcony, landing on the broken shards of glass. His hands were cut and bleeding. He could feel the cold wind blowing all around him. It was much stronger. He could hear a chopper far off in the distance, and the occasional car driving down the street.

Impossible. Their building wasn't this high up. And it had no balconies outside the windows.

He realized with horror that this was a totally different place.

"Ok! I'll talk!"

"Too late. You had your chance. Enjoy the rest of your semi-comatose life."

This guy isn't fucking around, he thought as he was picked up again and bundled over the balcony with all the care one would give a sack of potatoes.

The back of his head slammed against the metal railing.

"Ow! Shit! Right on the fucking lump...Wait! Wait! I'll tell you everything man! Wait, please!"

He shrieked wildly as his body plummeted from the top floor of the building, the black bag flapping about his face noisily as he picked up speed. After a few more harrowing seconds he jerked to a painful halt, the cords biting deep into his flesh, so deep he felt sure his limbs would be torn off. He groaned in agony. His pants felt very warm. He knew right then he had shit himself. After a few seconds the bag was ripped off his face and a blurry black shape came into view. He was inches above the ground. He realized he was crying. He blinked away the tears.

Batman didn't even have to ask, he started speaking right away.

"His name is Black Mask, leads this group that calls themselves the False Facers! It's supposed to be this Illuminati type of group! Runs everything from prostitution to illegal gambling and drugs! False Facers are super-loyal, and he's their boss! He has access to some top level narcotics and weapons! They say no one's ever seen his face! He wears a wooden mask! That's all I know man, I swear to God!" He sobbed loudly.

 _Well. That wasn't what I was looking for at all. But I'll take it. I've never heard of this group. That in itself is a cause for alarm._

In fact Batman had been following up on this gang because they had ties to several other smuggling operations within the city, and they were the main independent security outfit for the 2 Crime Families in Gotham whenever they had dealings with outsiders.  
He had actually wanted to know who had supplied security for Cobblepot's latest haul of foreign prostitutes, or 'exotic dancers' as everyone in Gotham was calling them. He had heard shocking rumors even in his civilian identity of horrific abuse at the hands of the nightclub bouncers.  
Brutal beatings, starvation and other vile things that he hoped for their sakes were just rumors. Whoever supplied security likely knew the middleman, and the middleman knew the supplier.

But he wasn't about to tell him that. If this Black Mask and his False Facers were what the henchman claimed, then maybe they were behind all of that.  
He walked away from the hanging man without another word. His mind was already rapidly piecing together this information with what he witnessed at the docks a few months back. Almost everything fit. But he didn't have a motive.

"Hey!" The man called after him. "Hey man, I told you everything! How about you let me down!?"

Batman ignored him, climbing onto his bike.

"Hey! I'm talking to y-"

The rope snapped and he fell face first, then gravity pushed him over and he landed painfully on his side. He heard a powerful roar and he rolled onto his belly just in time to see Batman tearing away on a sleek black motorcycle, his cape billowing behind him. His mouth tasted salty. He spat out a chipped tooth.

"Goddamn fucking Batman! I hope the Feds get you!" He yelled hoarsely as he struggled against his bonds.

* * *

"You know I think they're starting to suspect me. Or should I say they're starting to suspect me more."

The silence was punctuated by the flick of his lighter. He struggled to shield the flame from the wind. Finally he succeeded in lighting the end of the cigarette and he inhaled.

"I hope you're there and I'm not just talking to myself again. But I'm pretty sure your there. I'm getting that funny feeling I always get when you're around." He blew out the smoke.

Finally Batman answered.

"You really should stop smoking."

"Careful. You almost sound concerned." Gordon said sarcastically.

"You're no use to me if you're sick in hospital with lung cancer."

"I think that's at least 20 years away."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" Batman asked, referring to the first statement.

"Nothing you can do. Even you have to draw the line somewhere right? I'm just letting you know. Just in case you see me on the front page of the papers looking like I got shot with a full clip from a Browning, you'll know it was the PD that fingered me... Do you even read newspapers? Are you inclined to doing normal things like that?"

There was no reply.

"Right, I forgot, no personal questions. Anyway, I got something I think will be right up your alley." He opened the file in his hands. It was filled with bloody photographs.

"About a month ago, bodies started turning up all over the place. Well, not all over the place. Low income areas. The Narrows mostly. Eerie stuff if I do say so myself, and I've seen some scary things in my time. GCPD sat on it for as long as they could, but you know how word gets around. At first it was just one homeless guy.. We thought it was an isolated case. Then it changed strictly to white females aged between 18 and 55. Then we thought we had a serial killer on our hands." He placed the file on the edge of the roof and placed his heavy metal lighter on it to act as a paperweight.

Batman emerged from a totally different dark recess than Gordon had anticipated.

He would never get used to that. Part of him suspected the vigilante got some weird enjoyment from surprising him every time.

Batman picked up the file.

The photos were extremely disturbing. The women all had their throats slit,blood ran down the front of their bodies, soaking their clothes. The bodies were set in everyday life poses. Reading the paper. Sitting on a bench. Standing upright at a windowsill. His cowl lenses glowed red as they scanned over the images and case reports, transferring them directly to the computer at the Cave where he would look at them in more detail. For now he noted the most obvious thing, the killer was trying to send a message. The most eccentric serial killers always did.

Gordon continued with his narrative.

"But then his MO changed. Two weeks in after these murders, he went after men and women alike, all ages, all races, all shapes, all sizes. The only unifying factor is that they were all extremely poor or homeless. Other than that, zero discrimination. That's not typical serial killer style. Yesterday... Yesterday they found a kid. Barely 10 years old. His mother was the one that found him. She got worried when he didn't come home from school as usual. She was so...it was like she..." Gordon trailed off. His hand trembled imperceptibly as he raised the cigarette to his lips.

Batman's nostrils flared as he looked at the image of the dead child, but he gave no outward sign of the incredible river of rage that had burst its banks within him. With a level of control that bordered on the unnatural, he clamped a lid on the emotion, sealing it off completely.

He would need a ton of meditation and physical exertion in the morning to purge it all out. It was a good thing this meeting happened after he had interrogated that criminal.

Otherwise he might have really hurt him.

Gordon hadn't noticed a thing.

Indeed, it wasn't typical serial killer style.

Everyone had gone out the same way, throats slit, posed in life-like positions.

"I would have brought this to you sooner, but they've got me working burglary and petty crimes. I don't exactly have many friends in the PD, but I managed to get these files. Honestly I don't know how they sat on this story for as long as they did. I know you've got your way of doing this, but for what it's worth I'd like to share some of my thoughts. It's not much, but every little helps."

Batman shut the file and his lenses resumed their usual pale white appearance.

"I was going to suggest that." Batman said.

Gordon tried not to look surprised. He cleared his throat.

"Obviously there are no missing persons reports. No one gives a damn about homeless people and slum dwellers. Even then I've learned that most people in this city would sooner run into a thug than a cop, so people might know something and be sitting tight with info. We both know the GCPD isn't the most...co-operative with other forces, but I expect State Police will get on this case once the word gets out-if it hasn't already-and if its gone further than that I wouldn't be surprised if the FBI started sniffing around. So far that's all I've got."

"I'll look into it."

Gordon nodded and picked up the file.

"One more thing Batman. As I said, if this is big the Feds might come looking, so a word to the wise, keep your eyes peeled. I'm sure you know how to deal with these things much better than I do, but I'd keep a low profile if I were you. I can barely cover you from the GCPD, I don't think I have the skill to hoodwink federal agents."

"I think I've got that bit covered." Batman said.

Gordon turned to find he was alone. He could have sworn it sounded like Batman was...joking. There was the faintest hint of humor in his voice.

No.  
Impossible.  
All these months since they started 'officially' working together he had never spoken more than 50 words.  
Gordon counted.  
He wouldn't start cracking jokes tonight, or any time soon.

That would indicate he viewed Gordon as more than a mole inside a corrupt organisation.  
He pulled out another cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket and began patting himself for his lighter.

It was gone.

"Son of a-"

* * *

From her position on the rooftop, Diana had seen everything.

Batman wasn't that hard to find.

It was just a small matter of flying over every inch of Gotham for a couple of hours until she stumbled across something. Except she came across a lot of somethings within that time, none of them good. It had taken an enormous amount of self-restraint not to interfere with everything she came across, because she didn't want to attract any undue attention.  
Eventually though, she came across 'something' strange enough to warrant further investigation, or at the very least closer observation. It was rather like tracking an animal. A highly intelligent, well equipped, stealthy animal.

She finally spotted a black figure gliding low over a building, circling it twice then arcing downwards and smashing through a glass window. She had almost missed it.  
A normal human's eyes would certainly have missed it.

She had watched him from the moment he burst into the building, seeing the flash of light from the muzzles as the room was filled with automatic gunfire, to the swift, noiseless exit and the later interrogation of the criminal, then finally the meeting with Gordon.

Batman was a formidable warrior, that much was evident.  
He showed great discipline, skill, resourcefulness and intelligence.

But he was also a little brutal in his execution.

Even from her position far off she had heard the wet meaty sounds of fist hitting face, the occasional snap as a bone broke, screams of pain and fear.  
She had been a little concerned when she heard the man screaming for help.

But then again, she mused, he didn't seem to gain any pleasure from his brutal methods. If anything he seemed to rein himself in quite a lot. She saw a lot of holding back in his technique, a lot of moves that could easily have been lethal that were instead diverted into simple yet effective and extremely painful knockout blows.  
That was good.  
She didn't want any sadists in the League.  
And having spent just a few hours in Gotham she could understand why he was so rough.

It seemed like an inherently evil place. The sharp arches, stone gargoyles, the sky that was neither black nor grey nor any color really, just a haze of something that seemed to almost repel light, distort sound and color. It was quite possibly the ugliest, darkest city she had ever seen.  
He was a product of his environment. He was an avatar of Gotham.

As he swung from the rooftops with his cable, she decided this would be a good time to intercept him. The city seemed to be winding down at long last, and she sensed that perhaps he was leaving. There was a strange finality to his movements, like the closing of a long observed ritual.

 _It is now or never,_ she thought as she accelerated and flew behind him, just out of his line of sight. She didn't want to startle him or have him falling out of the sky, although she somehow doubted any of that would happen.  
Before she could speak he said,

"No."

She accelerated forwards auntil she was flying beside him.

"How-"

"A red, white and blue bathing suit with shiny metal bits tends to stick out in a bleak environment like this. I've been seeing star spangled shorts for hours. Eventually I decided you weren't a threat, so I continued with my business."

 _Fair enough. Wait, did he say bathing suit?_

"This is not a bathing suit! It is the Champion's Armor!"

"Uh-huh." He said as he continued swinging, shooting the line off and reeling it back in when he completed an arc.

She decided to ignore that.

"At least hear me out."

"I'm listening, aren't I?"

"This is no way to talk."

"My turf. My rules."

"You know I could have you arrested. I could capture you myself and take you to the proper authorities. I could even knock you out of the sky if I wanted, and no one would blame me."

"You could." he replied with an almost bored tone. Unexpectedly, he landed on a ledge.

"Look Princess", he said the word like it was an insult "I have a lot of work to do. It's nearing 2.45, that's the darkest time of night and the best time for my activities. Make your proposition quickly so I can reject it as fully as possible and we can both go our separate ways."

 _Arrogant!- No, he is trying to bait me. Cooler heads must prevail._

"Why won't you join the League?"

"Don't like working on teams. Especially teams that are backed by the same people who are out to get me because I make them look bad."

"Fair enough. But you did steal something of theirs."

"I borrowed it. They should thank me."

"Somehow you don't strike me as someone who does this for the gratitude."

"Don't act like you understand me, because you don't."

"You are right, I do not understand you. Please help me to. You are not a villain, yet you refuse to work with heroes. Why?"

"Don't like camera's." He said dryly.

"Please extend me the courtesy of speaking to me like an adult. I did not come all the way out here for your witty banter and sarcastic remarks."

"Fine. In case you don't read the papers or watch the news, I'm not a hero. I'm what this city deserves. I have no interest in joining some glorified, State-run, boy-band version of a super-team to stroke my ego and assure everyone that despite all the horrible rumors, I really am a nice guy."

"It would seem to me that your ego is the selfsame reason you refuse to join the League."

"Again, don't talk like you understand me, or my motivations."

"I do not, and I really do not care for them any more than you care for mine or anyone elses, since you seem to think you understand us all so well. All I care for is your ability. It saved our skins once, perhaps in the future it could help us again. It would be nice to have access to that on a regular basis, rather than waiting until another crisis arises."

"The answer is still no. Gotham is and always will be my first priority. I can serve no one elses interests."

"You know the next time-and we both know there _will_ be a next time-the results could be much worse than a destroyed city centre and a few dilapidated buildings. The price could be higher than just tax dollars. It could be blood. The blood of innocents. Though you cloak yourself in the garb of a monster and prowl around at night like a creature of the night, like something out of a nightmare, I sense that even you would not stand aside to let such a thing happen."

He seemed to be considering it.

 _Now for the Coup de Grace._

"You do not have to join as a full time member. You can work with us only when it is absolutely necessary."

 _That might actually work,_ he thought to himself. _But what does 'absolutely necessary' mean to her? To Them?_

"I'll think about it."

Inwardly she sighed with relief. That was easier than expected.

"When can I expect an answer?"

"Don't." He said as he fired off his line. "Now go home."

"And stay out of Gotham." He called over his shoulder as he pulled away.

 _The nerve! Impudent little-_

Diana could have screamed out loud in frustration. But she calmed herself with a few deep breaths and flew away. The conversation had gotten much further than she had expected.

As starts go, it wasn't great, but it wasn't too shabby either.

* * *

 **A/N: Read and Review**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: My thingy keeps telling me I have more reviews but I can't see them. Dunno if that's normal or what. Anyway, keep 'em coming, hopefully someone will address this issue.  
**

* * *

 **Louisiana, New Orleans**

Selina pulled up outside the old decrepit building. It looked like it had once been a beautiful mansion, but now the floorboards were broken in most places, the white paint was chipped and peeling in most places, and most of the windows were broken or completely missing.

The first thing she noticed was that the entire place was abuzz with activity. There were men dressed in coveralls crawling all over the place like ants, hanging from the rafters on thick cables, removing old shingles from the roof, clearing rotten gunk from the gutters, and knocking out old decayed wood from the boarded up windows.

Across the expansive compound was a two man team driving mowers over the thick grass. Further off there was a large stable that was being hosed out with powerful disinfectant. There didn't seem to be any horses inside.

The drive had taken several days, driving very carefully and stopping frequently to make sure she wasn't being followed. She had also gotten fake identification documents and altered her appearance slightly, cutting her hair short, dying it blonde and putting on blue contacts.  
It had been a little worrying anytime she came across a police cruiser or a highway patrolman on a bike, but they paid her no mind.  
Perhaps, she mused, that was because the car she was driving so obviously screamed 'federal asset'. It was dusk now.

No word from Steve, no choppers circling over head, nothing suspicious.  
It looked like he was just going to let her go.

As she stepped out of the car, an immaculately dressed butler stepped out of the building and took her keys, she assumed to park the car. Another butler emerged from the double doors of the mansion and led her inside.

The interior was a lot better.  
Some of the furniture looked extremely ancient, like it had been here since the house had been built. There were numerous paintings lining the walls, from as far back as the 16th century to-rather oddly- modern day portraits, all of which showed wealthy aristocratic men. Barons, military generals, and finally just men in really expensive,well cut suits.

The place had a sickly sweet smell from all the damp and greenery.

Selina tried not to gawk like a rube at everything she saw, so she only let her eyes wander over what they could. The butler led her to what looked like a study, filled from floor to ceiling with all sorts of books with big names and titles, none of which meant anything to Selina. She wasn't a dunce but she was no academic either. There was a maid dressed exactly like what maids in the 17th century must have worn.

She sat for a long time in silence, wondering why contacts always chose the dodgiest of places to arrange their meets. Perhaps this was sacred ground to them, or they just felt safer here. She didn't mind. If this place was any indication, whoever this person was had a hell of a lot of money. That was all she was interested in right now.

"Hello Selina." said a familiar voice.

Selina suddenly felt nauseous. Without looking back she rose from her seat and vaulted over the large table that stood just before the window, smashing through it feet first and landing on the ground outside.

She heard several shouts, she ignored them, sprinting round the corner and climbing onto a small perimeter fence, running along the slim concrete beam with incredible balance and agility.  
Automatic gunfire pinged off of the surface of the wall in rapid bursts, some very close to her feet, but they only served to make her run faster. When she reached the edge of the wall she somersaulted, rolling on her back and up onto her feet in one smooth movement.

She ran as fast as she could, aiming for the treeline just around the corner.  
With any luck she could find cover from the gunfire and hide from her pursuers at the same time.

But when she rounded the corner she was greeted by the sight of all the workers she had seen, including the butlers and the maid, carrying various rifles and pistols, all trained on her. There were so many optics on her torso it looked like the shirt she was wearing was red.

She could her the sound of footsteps approaching behind her, and the cocking of a pistol. She raised her hands, not daring to turn around.

"My, my, Selina, still as dull as a doorknob. Weren't you even a little suspicious? A job this close to home?"

 _Shit._

"Oh come now, it'll take more than a haircut and contacts to fool me. I'd know those acrobatic moves anywhere."

Still Selina said nothing.

"Fine. Have it your way."

At a signal, four of the men advanced with rifles raised, and two more cuffed her tightly, before throwing a black bag over her head and securing it with a loop around her neck.  
She could hear a car approaching. It sounded like a large van.  
She was shoved inside and she felt her cuffs being attached to longer, stronger chains. She flexed her wrists experimentally.  
They were tight. So tight they were cutting off circulation to her hands.  
She would have to break or dislocate more than a few bones if she wanted to get out of this one.  
That idea was swiftly shelved as she heard several more men get into the back of the van with her.

"Put her in the special wing with the others. Make sure she has her own cell and at least a dozen of your best men watching at any time, and rotate that shift every 8 hours. Have someone check on her every hour on the hour. If she clears her throat I want to hear about it. And make sure there is absolutely nothing loose in the room, not even a wood shaving. I want everything bolted down. She might not look like much but believe me she is as dangerous in her own way as the rest of the super-freaks in there."

"Yes ma'am." The man she assumed was their leader said.

The heavy metal doors were slammed shut and she jolted as the van set off, jangling her wrist bones painfully.

* * *

 _He is in Iraq again, standing outside the CH-47 Chinook, waiting for the rest of the Team to finish loading up the supplies they needed for this mission._

 _It is fairly light stuff, one Fast Attack Vehicle-basically a weaponized dune buggy with a powerful engine, two Hayes M1030 bikes and their usual supply of light and heavy weapons, mainly .50cal machine guns, assault rifles, sniper rifles and several boxes of explosives._

 _This job requires stealth, much more than their usual standards, so its down to the bare essentials, the best of the best operators only._  
 _Wilson is totally relaxed, having already drawn up a meticulous strategy on the fly like he always did._  
 _Lance is fumbling with his gear, as always._  
 _Drake sits quietly in the corner doing whatever the hell she does to prep herself before Super-Covert Ops like these._  
 _Fairchild is checking his field med-kit against the larger medical supplies list to make sure he has everything he needs. If anyone gets hurt he will have to be prepared. The nearest hospital is very very very far away, and they will be going to hostile territory._  
 _Cash is lovingly inspecting his weapons, cleaning them before slathering them with gun oil so they won't have difficulty functioning in the hot, dry, sandy environment._  
 _Waller is busy checking her communications equipment and the rest of her tech._  
 _Then there is him, doing nothing because he has already checked and double checked everything._

 _As the Team's pilot/ transport specialist his gear is always in order at all times._  
 _All members of Team 7 know that they can be deployed on a mission at a moments notice, and as the guy who is responsible for getting them there and back, he has to be prepared._

 _Always._

 _He watches Kurt struggle with the rifle for a full minute, then watches as Dinah rises from her position to help him with a patient smile._  
Kurt shouldn't be on this mission. Yes he's good at finding stuff, but he's a civilian, and a crap operator to boot _,he thinks_ _to himself_.

 _But these are problems well above his pay-grade. He wonders if anyone else has noticed that Dinah and Kurt have something going on. Probably. Everyone here is as sharp as a tack, they don't miss anything. The real question is why do they remain silent? Relationships among Team members are frowned upon, it compromises the professionalism of the work environment._  
 _But Dinah has never let that interfere with the job, at least not to his knowledge. After all, he is rarely right there in the field with them_.

 _Everything else happens in a blur. He flies the helicopter up to 5 miles outside of their rendezvous point. He watches as they unload everything, moving out in a matter of minutes. Everyone has that hard look in their eyes that they get before a mission. Everyone but Lance of course. He looks as frightened as ever. Dinah puts a hand on his shoulder and smiles reassuringly. He smiles back weakly._

Yup. Kurt Lance definitely shouldn't be on this Op, _Steve thinks, but he pushes the thought out of his mind. He flies the helicopter back outside the Op Zone, and he waits patiently for several hours. This Op will have complete radio silence,he discussed everything with Waller beforehand._

"These aren't your garden variety terrorists. These guys have radar jammers, and tech that can detect all sorts of communication frequencies. Short range stuff is ok, which means the Team and I, but anything penetrating outside a mile will be picked up and you will have insurgents on your ass." _she had said._

"Ok. So what should I do? How long should I wait?"

"I'd say give it about 11 or so hours. If we're not back at the rendezvous point by then, or if you see a flare, then you can come in and get us. If you see a blue flare, that means shit has really gone south, we're probably all dead and we'll need an attack chopper to clean up after us, which means destroy the entire base."

 _He had swallowed nervously when she mentioned them dying._

"Relax Trevor, we've run a thousand missions like these, nothing will happen. I'm just giving you the procedure for the Op, that's all."

 _It is now 1 hour past their arrival time. This is not unusual. Sometimes they are 3 hours late. But he has had a bad feeling all day. He has learned not to ignore this feeling. It has kept him alive and allowed him to save lives several times in his career. He leans forward in his seat, binoculars against the night sky._

 _There it is, clear as day, a bright blue flare. So bright it burns almost white hot._

 _He starts up the engines of the Apache, which he had got into the minute he made it back into the base. He guns it at top speed, not caring whether the enemy sees him or not. The flight takes a short while, but it feels like forever to Steve. As he crests over the hill, he sees that the entire place is aflame, and he can see gunfire coming from all directions, all of it focused on him. That confirms it for him. No gunfire focused anywhere else on the base means the insurgents are sure the Team members are dead._

 _He is filled with rage for his fallen comrades._

 _He has lost so many friends already. So many._

 _Switches are flicked and he starts with the 30mm rail gun, firing hundreds of rounds a minute into the area, shredding through steel and concrete structures like they were made of wet tissue paper. He sees vehicles,buildings, small planes, all going up in smoke with colorful explosions.  
He realises he is yelling as his finger holds down the triggers.  
The guns are hot, numerous lights on the console are blinking and bleeping.  
Engines overheating.  
Weapons overheating. _

_For the first time he doesn't care. He finds he is even more enraged when the rail gun runs out of rounds. He has spent 1,200 rounds of ammunition already.  
He fires the missiles next, his face lit up by the fiery explosions they produce. More alarms from the console. He is taking heavy hits, and he cannot take much more._

 _In the blink of an eye it seems he has run out of ammo once again. The console bleeps wildly, warning him that a missile is coming in hot. It is too late to dodge it, he takes the blast at the base of the chopper, dangerously close to the fuel tanks. The chopper veers wildly and he struggles to keep it in the air. He has to complete the mission. Even if it kills him._

 _In a split second he makes what he recognizes as the wildest decision of his career thus far. He noses the chopper down and forwards, mowing through several insurgents with the rotor blades. He is pushing it at full speed, almost 300km/h. He can see a massive metal silo that he knows must be their reserve fuel tank, filled with jet fuel for their planes that he destroyed just moments earlier. He aims straight for it, rotors screaming, every light on the console flashing wildly, the bottom of the chopper flaming._

 _His last thought is that he must look really fucking awesome._

 _Then he remembers the dusty old parachute underneath the second pilot seat. He locks the steering column with his ammo belt and scrambles to the back, trying to get it. It probably won't do him much good, the chopper is not designed for jumps, and he isn't nearly high enough for altitude to slow him, but it can't be any wilder than what he's just done._

 _Finding the chute, he kicks open the window, ducking as the spinning blades shred it into oblivion. Some of the broken glass rips at his torso, through the armor plates in his vest and into the soft flesh underneath. Something warm trickles over his chest. Recalling the Airborne Training he received prior to joining the team, he swiftly straps on the chute and falls out of the chopper quite badly, bumping against the hard metal and pulling the tab on the chute as he does so. Mercifully the backdraft from the spinning rotors pushes him a great distance away, although it is extremely painful as the harness bites into his flesh and propels him backward. He crashes into the windscreen of a burning jeep, and he scrambles off of it as fast as he can, the hot metal eating through the parachute and very nearly through his vest and shirt. His shoulder is singed, he can smell the sickening smell of burning human flesh.  
_

 _He is breathing heavily, already he can feel the gash in his chest bleeding profusely, and the burning in his shoulder as the flesh sizzles. He has never been in so much pain in his life, but he forces himself to crawl across the ground and find cover behind a boulder. He checks the clip on his Glock. 20 rounds. It'll have to do. He picks off as many insurgents as he can, but more keep coming, like ants crawling out of their hill. Two dull thuds in his side tell him he has taken hits._

 _The vest is hanging by threads, barely providing any protection from the bullets._

 _Three more thuds in quick succession. These ones sting. They have penetrated the vest.  
_

 _He blacks out._

* * *

Steve sat bolt upright in his bed, his body streaming with sweat, his hand clutching at his stomach. He looked around, and satisfied he was in his bedroom, fell back against the sheets.

He looks at the clock on the bedside table.

It is 7.30.

He should have been awake an hour ago. He rises and goes into the bathroom, turning on the faucet.

Steve hasn't had that dram for a long time.  
He is glad Diana wasn't here to see it.  
As a soldier he had often despised the Rambo trope. The hardened veteran with PTSD and nightmares of his worst days in the field.  
Then he became that soldier.

 _I must be really stressed out,_ he thinks as he lathers the thick beard on his face.

Stressed or not, he had a job to do.

 _Get a grip Trevor,_ he said to himself as he began shaving his face.

* * *

 **A/N: Some much needed background this chapter.**

 **Read and Review.**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: My favorite characters: Batman, Wonder Woman, Artemis(Young Justice),Nightwing, Superboy,Captain Atom, Icon,Black Canary,Deathstroke, Lex Luthor, Vandal Savage,Black Adam,Victor Fries,Joker, Ra's Al Ghul, Darkseid, Big Barda, Lashina, Aqualad(Young Justice), Prometheus,Sinestro,Hawkman, Wolverine,Punisher, Penance, Moonstone, Norman Osborne, Crossbones, Taskmaster, Daredevil,Thor,Thanos,Savage Dragon,Rai, Domino, Iron Man, Dr. Doom,Spawn,Constantine, and many many many more but these are what I picked off the top of my head. More below.**

 **No, I have not watched Justice League Doom.**

* * *

 **Gotham, Wayne Manor**

Bruce sat at the huge computer, dressed in black jogging pants, sneakers and a black sweatshirt. He was staring at the images on the screen.

There were numerous grisly images showing corpses in various stages of decomposition, all of them savagely mauled. There were mugshots of the creature feature in the sewers too. Bruce was glad he had fought him in the dark. Croc was outright horrifying under bright light. Bruce had seen a lot of weird crap on his travels, and a good deal of scary stuff too. He had once seen a woman possessed by demons when he visited a mosque in Tunisia, and he even helped killed them later under instruction from his Master. It had been horrifying, the ease with which she had overpowered dozens of men 3 times her size, and the way she seemed to speak in multiple voices at once. The woman was successfuly exorcised, but she died less than an hour later. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end even now at the memory of it. But even with his experience he would have lost his nerve for a moment facing Croc under fluorescent lighting. It seemed his learning curve grew ever steeper.

Pushing the thought out of his mind he resumed his study.

He had come across a whole wealth of information courtesy of the samples he had procured, and a plethora of hacked juvenile, prison and mental institution records, and had managed to compile it into a single folder. Now he went over it to make sure he had a solid case file for future reference.

 **NAME: WAYLON JONES**

 **SEX: MALE**

 **HEIGHT: 8'3"**

 **WEIGHT: 488 LBS**

 **HAIR COLOR: N/A**

 **EYE COLOR: YELLOW**

 **BLOOD GROUP: B+**

 **DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: REPTILIAN APPEARANCE.**

 **BACKGROUND INFORMATION: _Waylon Jones alias Killer Croc is the product of a traumatic childhood largely due to a genetic disorder that grew worse over time. Jones suffers from an extreme form of Epidermolytic Hyperkeratosis, causing his appearance to take on that of a crocodile. Jones mother died in childbirth and his father abandoned him. He was raised by his aunt, a physically and emotionally abusive alcoholic. He murdered his aunt and cannibalised her remains at the age of 16 during the first of many psychotic episodes. He was tried and convicted at a juvenile facility, where he murdered three more of his fellow inmates for mocking his increasingly subhuman appearance. He was subsequently transferred to Leavenworth Penitentiary. During his incarceration his genetic disorder progressed rapidly, producing mild reptilian features in his physiology and greatly augmenting his physical strength,speed,endurance, durability and reflexes. Jones became a top level enforcer in the maximum security prison, and he was eventually deemed too dangerous even for a Supermax facility. Jones was transferred to Iron Heights Penitentiary and proved to be one of the most difficult inmates to contain, having to be placed in a special wing of the Pipeline._**  
 ** _Jones is believed to have escaped from Iron Heights Penitentiary during the mass breakout engineered by Gorilla Grodd, and was missing for several months._**

 **UPDATE: _Waylon Jones is currently incarcerated at Arkham Asylum serving out the duration of his sentence as it is better equipped to contain him._**

Everything made sense. Iron Heights was notorious for its abuse of inmates. Gregory Wolfe had a reputation as a cruel warden, bordering on sadistic.  
Daily beatings, orders to shoot any inmates on sight, 24 hour containment inside cramped quarters, 2 meals or less a day. These were just the publicly known methods used to contain the average criminals housed at the holding facility. The entire prison was as inhumane as the legendary D Block at Alcatraz was in its day, if not more.

To someone-something-like him it would have been unbearable and downright maddening. No amount of weights or poker could distract the mind from such horrible privations, much less the mind of what was for all intents and purposes a wild animal.  
Even the sewers of Gotham would be a better place for such a poor creature.  
Sometimes the System failed or made things worse.  
There was nothing he could do about that. His job was to bring in people like Jones. Whatever happened next was out of his hands. Batman couldn't arm twist the legal system into working efficiently. This was one of those cases, and while he was sympathetic that didn't change the fact that Jones had committed murder on a large scale, and that he was an extremely dangerous metahuman.

He minimized those files and opened another.

The serial killer from the Narrows.

He had precious little information on him. He only knew that he was blonde, of medium height,strong, with a predilection for knives. There didn't appear to be any prior criminal records. This would need a more personal approach than a screen and keyboard.

The murders were still going strong, now focusing on prostitutes.

As if he didn't have enough to worry about.

What with his 'proposition' for an honorary membership that was starting to feel like a polite demand of his services, and the fact that he still had no idea where his stolen chip was. If S.T.A.R Labs had it in their possession he would surely have been questioned at least once in his capacity as Bruce Wayne, and the story would certainly be all over the news, if not a subject of gossip in corporate circles. So far none of that had happened. No rumors of a conglomerate undergoing investigation of any kind besides the financial. No gossip over garlic bread and He didn't think the government had it, and checking their files revealed this in their inventory. No one had approached him, and this convinced him further. He could only hope that it was destroyed in the chaos. He knew there was a good chance it survived. If so, someone somewhere had it, and they had done nothing, which was perhaps the most unsettling thing of all. Immediately he composed and sent an encrypted e-mail to Lucius Fox.

L, please ensure all new generation field equipment is capable of self destruction, possibly via thermite bombs. I don't care how much it costs.  
B.

From now on, if anything of his fell into the wrong hands, it would melt into slag when triggered. This entire debacle could have been averted if such a fail-safe had been built into his technology from the very start. But he had never anticipated someone getting to Batman through his civilian identity in this way. The irony was Lex wasn't even trying to uncover his secret identity, and yet he had come dangerously close. He would never make that mistake again.

He didn't really want to join the JLA-even as an honorary member-either. Gotham's criminal elements were starting to grow. He had succeeded in weakening the two major crime families to some extent, but this led to them hiring criminal metahumans such as Deathstroke, or the formation of isolated players like the Penguin and Black Mask. All of this was mixed up with the occasional bizarre cases like those he had been witnessing recently.

Organized crime was blossoming into something more, and it was now more than ever that Gotham needed the Batman.

"I must say Master Bruce, these enemies of yours, they grow more colorful each night." Alfred said from somewhere beside him.

He didn't bother turning his head as he replied.

"It used to be drug pushers and gun runners. Pimps and burglars. The occasional purse thief. Now I get serial killers, metahuman criminals, people wearing masks and spandex too."

"It almost makes me long for the days when I was merely worried you would be mowed down by a bunch of gun toting goons." Alfred said as he eyed the bloody crime scenes and autopsy reports splashed across the screen. It looked like the back room of the butchers shop he used to work at as a teenager back in England. Glancing at the console he noted there was a plate with the remains of Bruce's light evening meal- a chicken salad and a small protein shake, with the protein jar still open and the scoop sticking out. For someone so fastidious in his habits, Bruce had incredible moments of sloppiness, especially when he was 'working'. But that was what it meant to grow up in money. There was always someone who would clean up after you.

"How on earth can you eat when looking at such things?"

"Call it a testament to your superior culinary skills." Bruce said dryly.

"Why thank you sir. I'd spent many an hour slaving over a hot stove to prepare for you-" he squinted slightly. "-Super Pro Muscle Building Protein Powder. Cookies and Cream flavour. You know you really should try real food one of these days sir. It is quite good, I assure you."

"I had a salad." he said defensively.

"I repeat, real food. And that brings me back to my original question."  
"Worry not Alfred. I haven't become desensitized to the horror of it. Whoever said a human being could get used to anything was probably a Class A psychopath." he replied, correctly guessing as he always did exactly what Alfred meant.

"Speaking from experience sir?"

Bruce wisely kept his mouth shut.

No, Alfred thought, he isn't desensitized at all. If that ever happened he would simply give it up. Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing... Would it? It is after all the horror that drives him more than anything I think.. On the outside he might seem tranquil, but the storm forever raged underneath...

Bruce rose from his seat. It was almost dark, and he was raring to go. He remembered the nights when Batman wasn't seen before 10. Now he hardly waited for the sun to set before he got cracking.

"I suppose it would be a waste of time to ask you to rest?" Alfred asked as Bruce peeled off his sweatshirt, revealing mottled bruising on his back and shoulder that looked a lot like smashed grapefruit. The elder man grimaced at the sight. He wondered if it felt as bad as it looked. Probably a lot worse. But Bruce's facial expression was as deadpan as ever.

Bruce was silent as he got some adhesive tape and began winding it around his trunk. Alfred watched for a few moments, then he sighed dejectedly and took the strapping, winding it more methodically around Bruce's torso and snipping it off neatly. Next he wrapped some more around his injured shoulder. One of the few things he wasn't that good at was this kind of thing. His stitching was neat but he always made a mess of things, leaving so much blood soaked gauze or else staining his clothing and sheets so heavily that Alfred insisted on doing all the medical work himself. He suspected the young master's inhuman pain tolerance played a large part in his reckless first aid procedures.

Lucky for him he had a butler with experience in medicine.  
Bruce flexed his arm experimentally. He would have to look into prosthetics for the suit at some point in the future, minimize the strain on his joints when he was injured at least. Pain could always be tuned out, but pain meant physical damage, and if he wasn't careful he'd be walking around in an exo-suit just to hold his battered body together in the future.

"What's the weather like Alfred?"

"Terrible sir. Freak thunderstorm I'm afraid."

He was tempted to ask if Alfred was being serious, but decided against it. His sarcasm was directly proportionate to his skills as a butler.

He picked out several different suits. One that was little more than spandex with kevlar sown in. No. One that had heavier kevlar plating and a large utility belt. No. Eventually he picked out the same suit he always wore. Then he set about packing his fancy gadgets, or 'field equipment' as he called it rather drolly.

Alfred couldn't help but note the similarity to Miss Martha. He wondered if Bruce knew how much of his parents quirks he had inherited.

Every time they had an important event to host the Mistress would spend hours going through her wardrobe only to wear one of the first outfits she had selected anyway. Master Thomas would recline on the bed with infinite patience, his mustache quivering with amusement. Every now and then Miss Martha would ask, "What about this one Tom?" and he'd give Alfred a conspiratorial glance, as if they were in on a joke. Then he would say, "It looks perfect Mart." But she would always discard it for another. And little Bruce would sit on the floor, adorable in his miniature tuxedo, completely oblivious to everything going on around him as he watched his mother toss out dress after dress.

Then, when he would inevitably fall asleep halfway through the party, Alfred would carry him back to bed because the Master and Mistress were so popular no one would let them leave even for a minute, and they were far too polite to protest too strongly. Bruce would always be clutching one of his toys. No, not toys, figurines. Little Bruce would always correct anyone that called them toys.

He pronounced it as 'figuwine' for such a long time.

Quite suddenly Alfred was seized with a feeling of intense grief. It was so strong he felt he would burst into tears. Indeed his eyes were moist.

Extremely unprofessional.

He excused himself and went upstairs to polish the silver, leaving Bruce, no longer little, no longer obvlivious, to play with his new toys.

* * *

 **A/N: I probably have at least 50 favorite characters. Many of them are from the Young Justice series. You can probably see how that show influenced my writing. Its unfortunate they cancelled it, I really think it was the best animated feature since the Timmverse era. There was so much potential for future plots, and the little things like Lex being Superboy's 'father', Artemis' family, Robin's past at Haly's Circus, Megan being white(lol),Red Arrow being a clone and the general Mentor-Student relationship differences between the various OG heroes and the young upstarts made the story that much more interesting. I particularly liked the episode 'Failsafe'. Taught me a lot about the characters. Like how at the very beginning Robin wants so much to be like Batman. He uses actual batarangs on missions, operates exactly as Batman would, except he's 14. Then over the series he gradually begins to want the mantle less and less, eventually we see him using his own boomerangs and tech, becoming more light-hearted(yet darker at the same time) as he realizes that being Batman isn't all its cut out to be, especially as he gets to 'be' Batman during the training exercise turned horror movie. I also like how Superboy displays that chilling detachment, saying he enjoyed being Superman. Much later I realized Lex has the same sentiments. Then BOOM CONNOR I AM YOUR FATHER WHY DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE SO MANY ISSUES. Blatantly telling us the entire plot, except hardly anyone is that observant so hardly anyone noticed. Also, I know in the DCU and general sci-fi universes irrational anger is attributed to one of the (many) glitches in clones (Speedy/Red Arrow was also a loose cannon. Once again the writers laying the answer right under our noses, brilliant.) but I always liked to think that Superboy's rage was the piece of Lex Luthor within him, and that's what he's like without the formidable intellect to keep his rage in check. Batman and Robin's relationship was perfect, good balance of expectations vs what its actually like having to be a parent and a superhero mentor at the same time. I also liked that Aquaman was a bit arrogant, a bit of an asshole, and Kal'dur'ahm was like the nicest guy on the planet. I liked Green Arrow cheerfulness and Red Arrow's abrasiveness. Didn't see much of the 'real' Red Arrow but he seemed more imperious than angry. Only dislikes were not enough Wonder Woman and Superman being a dick towards a 16 year old kid who so clearly idolizes him and has major self esteem issues.  
**

 **Teen Titans Go! is so much liquid faeces in comparison, and it couldn't hold a fucking flamethrower to the original. But whatever gets the toy sales up, right? May as well bring back Super Friends at this rate. I mean 'Waffles Waffles Waffles'?  
Somewhere on this earth Glen Murakami silently weeps.**

 **What do you guys think of a Justice League fic set in the 60's? Or 70's? Or 80's?  
**

 **Read and review.**


	36. Chapter 36

**Gotham City,**  
 **2.18AM**

The rain had been pouring down all night, keeping the streets clear of most crime that thrived under the cover of darkness. Lightning tore across the skies in brilliant flashes, illuminating the dark city below, casting eerie gothic shadows on the buildings. Some said Gotham was the ugliest city in the country. Looking at it now from the roof of the Wayne Towers building, Batman couldn't help but agree. But it was his ugly city.

There wasn't much action tonight, and when there was, it was painfully easy. Bad weather was good weather for him. Stealth, which he was already a master of, became that much easier. Loud sounds were drowned out by the booming of thunder and the patter of rainfall. Vision was obscured past a few paces. The cold, the rumble of thunder, the flash of lightning. These things deterred normal men. They were excellent conditions for a creature of the night.

But something was wrong.

All night, he had been conscious of a presence following him. He could feel its eyes boring into his back even now. It wasn't Wonder Woman, that was for sure. His equipment told him nothing of a metahuman approaching the city. It was a familiar feeling. During his travels around the world he had learned from Henri and Martin Duncard, the famed(and much detested) trophy hunting father and son duo. What most people didn't know about the Duncards was that they were mercenaries, in the business of hunting men too. The art of manhunting wasn't just for any old knuckle draggers. It required keen senses, sharp observational skills,and a good deal of knowledge regarding tracking and navigation. All of that could be gained of course. One could hone their senses and observational skills, and they could always learn how to track or navigate using markers in the environment.

However, the most important ability when it came to manhunting, had to be innate. The most important ability could not be taught or practiced. You either had it or you didn't. The most important ability when it came to manhunting, was a strong intuition. A sense of something about to happen before it happened. Ironically, most humans had it within themselves, because for all their intelligence humans were still animals, and animals operate on instinct. The problem came in harnessing the ability. Most people just ignored it. They ignored that little voice in their head that told them to stop, look, listen. The v oice that told them, don't do this, do that instead. They ignored that primal part of their being, because it was drilled into their heads to never trust instinct blindly. Intellect was king.

And that was sound advice. No one should ever trust their instincts blindly. But no one should ever ignore their instincts when there is no real reason not to. He learned that the hard way many times at the start of his vigilante career, and he paid the price in pints of blood the night the GCPD SWAT team very nearly ended his life.

He was getting that feeling again.

The strange tingling at a spot between his shoulder blades. He touched a pad on his belt, summoning the car in the event things went south and he needed to exfiltrate quickly. If this was another hit from a squad of police, he'd have a means of escape. But he knew this was no ordinary hunter. Whoever it was, they had managed to keep up with him all night, and they hadn't shown themselves even once. The GCPD were a combination of poorly trained trigger happy cops with little or no discipline. And it was well past midnight. This wasn't them. It couldn't be.

The tingling sensation intensified. Whatever it was, it was right on top of him.

"Are you going to skulk in the shadows all night, or are you going to show yourself?" He said without turning. In response, a figure emerged from behind one of the tall metal spires of the Wayne logo. The same man from the party all those months ago. Deathstroke.

"I gotta say, I'm impressed Batman. I don't think anyone's ever seen me coming before. Still, took you long enough."

"You've been following me for approximately 3 hours." he stated.

"More like 3 hours, 15 minutes. You're not as good as you think you are."

"You're bluffing."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He suddenly found himself flying across the roof. He rolled backwards with the momentum of the fall, popping into a shoulder stand and landing smoothly on his feet. He hadn't even seen him move, but Deathstroke was already standing right before him. Batman had been watching his hands, which were hanging at his sides, near his holstered guns. That meant he had kicked him.

Raising his hands in a defensive stance, he barely ducked under a tightly snapped roundhouse kick. He responded with a low heel sweep that tripped Deathstroke, but just like a cat, he backflipped and landed on the balls of his feet.

The men circled each other slowly, like two boxers sizing each other up in the ring, each observing the other keenly. There wasn't that much of a difference between the two, except that Deathstroke was slightly taller, and slightly more muscular.

Both men knew it was just a preliminary, a warm up. A test of both men's level of skill. Whatever the outcome, this would be one hell of a fight. Batman observed Deathstroke slide smoothly, almost unconsciously into the tiger stance. A fitting fighting style for the current conditions.

 _Ok then, not your average bruiser._

He emptied his mind of everything but the fight and anticipated the attack.

It came thick and fast, with a flurry of punches and strikes that Batman had to work very hard to block, his forearms stinging with the impact of each blow. It was like fighting a vampire. He knew he had the skill to keep up with him, but Deathstroke was just too strong, and too fast, and in his present physical state after the bruising at Croc's hands, he was in no condition to handle him.

But he wasn't about to lay down. And he already knew Deathstroke wasn't invincible.

Batman blocked one of the punches and retaliated with an elbow to the face, then he seized Deathstroke by the throat and slammed him into the ground with a perfectly timed judo flip. This time even he couldn't move fast enough to avoid the painful landing, but in the blink of an eye he was back on his feet.

Batman pressed forward with a palm heel strike, pushing Deathstroke back a few paces, then he feinted a left cross and kicked Deathstroke right in the groin, hard, bringing him to his knees.

"Agh! You little-" A swift knee strike to his face cut off his speech, flooring him.

"You fight dirty Batman." he said as he rose slowly, unsheathing a katana from his back. It looked sharp enough to cut a string dropped over the blade in two. He flipped it over once,twice,three times in a blinding flash of glowing steel, showing his obvious skill and familiarity with the weapon.

"I like that." he charged forwards, blade raised high.

 _Alright. You have toys, I have toys._

He dropped a handful of smoke pellets and spun to the right as Deathstroke slashed at the empty air. But the sword was coming at him again, and he ducked, hearing the fabric of his cape rip as he blade sliced through it. That was a lead-lined kevlar cape. Either he was much stronger than he thought, or he was a master swordsman, or the sword itself was made of some special metal.

Probably a combination of all three.

Deathstroke came at him again, and Batman steeled himself for the oncoming attack, whipping out two long, sharp batarangs he always kept on his person for moments such as these.

Sparks flew as the blades struck against each other. His shoulder jarred painfully from the impact, but he grit his teeth and pushed back on the sword, kicking Deathstroke hard right in his gut, pushing him back several feet across the slick surface of the roof. Deathstroke coughed, tasting bile,a burrito, and the salty, metallic tang of blood at the back of his throat.

"Very good." he said.

He wasn't lying, he was genuinely impressed. Normally everyone else was quite dead by this stage.

"But it'll take more than you've got."

He charged forwards again.

* * *

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Do not be coy with me. You know exactly what. I do not know why you pretend that we do not have a link."

"What makes you think I am pretending?"

"Because I can all but hear your thoughts."

There was a prolonged silence.

"I do not think we should be doing this."

"We are safe here. Even he does not know of this place."

"You are a fool if you truly believe that."

"Perhaps. But I do not think so. You have been coming here for some time."

He glanced at her fleetingly, but she noticed the movement.

"It is a good place. Quiet. Far, far away from home. I like it. It is nice to be away from all the bickering."

He smirked.

"Yes. You absolutely detest the bickering. That is why you are always at the heart of it."

"I said it is nice to be away from it. I never said anything about detesting it."

"You enjoy it then?"

"It is not so much about enjoyment as it is about passing the time. We have so much of it, as you well know."

They were both silent for some time. They didn't need to speak. Theirs was an understanding that was older than the hills.

"He will not be pleased when he learns of this. And he always learns of things like this, no matter how long it takes. You know how he feels about these things. Remember what happened last time?"

"You need not remind me." she shuddered slightly.

"Exactly. I have suffered enough. I will not have that done to me. I would rather die." he spat venomously.

"I am not entirely sure that is possible. Not any more... And I never said anything about us interfering, did I? I am merely suggesting we make a little wager. Just like the old times."  
"And what would the winner of this wager-assuming it was to happen-receive?"

"Hmm. If you win, I will grant you my form."

"And if I lose?"

"Then you lose."

"Just like that? No consequences?"

"Yes."

He was silent, thinking of the deal.

"I do not know... Frankly I do not trust you. And I do not believe that you, of all people, would do that for me."

"Despite what you might think, we are still family, and I still love you as a sister loves her brother. That has never changed, and it never will." Her grey eyes met his red ones, and he looked away.

Still he was silent. She tried a different approach.

"Well, I never thought the day would come that you would refuse to make a wager on something like this. "

"That day has come, it seems." But the denial was weak, and she sensed it.

"Come now brother, are you really going to make me beg?"

Still he said nothing.

"Please?"

He turned his head to the side.

"Please brother? Just this once?"

"Go away." he said irritably.

"Please? I will even throw in the Aegis."

He seemed to consider this.

"Is it a yes or a no?"

"I.. I... Fine. But if we get in trouble for this, I will kill you."

"Yes, we all know how well that worked out for you last time, hm?"

He glared at her, but she was totally unaffected by his horrifying presence.

"So, who are you backing?" she asked.

"The warrior."

"They are both warriors."

"You know what I mean. The true warrior, obviously."

"All right. That leaves me with the other."

"Ha."

"'Ha'?"

"He is weak. He will not kill, and that will be his downfall."

"Poor brother. All these eons and you are yet to understand that it is not out of weakness, but great strength, that a warrior chooses not to kill."

"You would preach to me on my specialty?"

"It is my specialty too. I am just the more analytical side of it."

"No matter. He will still fall."

"We shall see. He is very resourceful. He reminds me of-"

"Yes, yes, I know who he reminds you of. The only man you ever truly loved. But even he had your assistance more often than not. Even if the mortal is as resourceful as you claim, wits can only take one so far in the face of sheer might. Victory is surely mine."

He leaned back with a somewhat smug expression, already anticipating a win.

"You have backed the wrong side before." she said quietly.

"You will never let me live that down, will you!?." he shouted.

"No. I will not." she replied with an impish grin.

* * *

 **A/N: If you want to know how I visualize Wonder Woman, look no further than Christina Halkiopoulos, particularly the shot with the red shorts and white tank top.  
Australia, you lucky bastards. As if the Hemsworth brothers weren't pretty enough.  
And Greece. I can see why Zeus couldn't keep his cock in his toga.**

 **Regarding the plot: JUST TRUST ME DAMMIT, AND KEEP THE QUESTIONS ABOUT ITS DIRECTION TO A MINIMUM.**

 **Read and review.**


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: I apologise for the month long silence,wish I could say it was spent writing numerous chapters. I haven't forgotten this story. I really wish I could, but I am never not thinking about it, I jump ahead in the time stream and ideas fly in my head every day, unfortunately we have to exist in the real world with all its problems. I will try and update regularly when I can, but I cannot guarantee anything.**

* * *

Steel rang against steel as Deathstroke brought his sword down on Batman, who rolled out of the way after deflecting the strike meant for his head. Deathstroke was quicker, slashing downwards and slicing open Batman's thigh. He felt the warm blood trickling down his leg as he rose to his feet. The strategy wthus far had been fairly simple:stay away from the blade. One clean hit and he would be down for the count. That had worked for about 10 minutes, but now it was time to change tact.  
He wasn't going to survive this by retreating. He would have to determine the course of the fight.

He raised the batarangs in a classic knife fighting stance and advanced towards Deathstroke, who didn't move. He slashed at his chest and was stopped by the katana, he tried again at the belly and again at the chest but each time his blows were stopped. He pushed harder, feinted a few blows and managed to cut through the armor plating on Deathstroke's shoulder, and then again on his left forearm, drawing blood.

"Alright, that's about enough of that." Deathstroke said.

He parried Batman's next strike,twisting the hilt of his sword and deftly disarming Batman of one batarang. Batman blocked another strike with the scallops of his gauntlet,but Deathstroke leaned forward and kicked him in the chest. He rolled back as he threw the batarang.

At the very last moment Deathstroke flicked it aside with the blade as he charged him and plunged his blade straight forwards and through his gut.

Batman growled as the blade was twisted, then wrenched out. He was kicked to the ground, hard, but he hardly felt it over the pain of the wound. To him it felt like a white hot lance had pierced his abdomen, and as he lay on the ground reeling from the pain he could feel the blood slowly seeping down his stomach, collecting at the back of his suit.

"Get up. I've yet to start making you pay for our last shindig." Deathstroke said coldly as he wiped the blade clean on his forearm.

Batman rose slowly, grunting at the pain as Deathstroke landed a powerful haymaker, then another, and another, each coming faster and harder than the last. Batman staggered. He was losing blood rapidly, and the punches weren't helping.

"It took me a long time to recover from all that. I had lead poisoning and a shattered vertebrae, among numerous other maladies. I was also clinically dead." He kicked Batman in the chest, and he landed with a heavy thud. The black skies seemed to be spinning above him.

Then he was picked up by the throat and punched in the gut, so hard he coughed up blood. Deathstroke walked across the roof with Batman in a chokehold.

"It was unpleasant, to say the least. I was sick as a dog. My metabolism went into overdrive to compensate. But I guess it's true what they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I always wondered if I could come back from the dead. Guess I know the answer to that question now. Really I should thank you for that. Only downside is-" He took off his mask. "I look like a fucking elf with this silver hair." He had reached the edge of the roof, and now he dangled his body over it. His face showed no strain at all, it was like he was holding a cellphone in his outstretched arm, not a human body.

"You know it's funny you picked a bat of all avatars. You can't even fly. In a sense this makes your death pretty ironic, doesn't it?"

"Spare me...the cheap...mercenary philosophy." Batman managed through the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He considered arming the tazer in his right gauntlet, a one time 50,000 volt special delivered with a solid punch to the face should put him right out of commission, but with all the moisture from the blood and rainwater he really wasn't sure if that was safe.

"Defiant to the end. It won't do you much good when you're a stain on the ground."

He dropped him.

Batman hurtled through the air, the wind whipping at his cloak. He may not have been able to fly, but falling from great heights was as familiar as walking down the stairs, and with a practiced hand he tapped a stud on his gauntlet, activating the glide polymers of his cape, which flapped the wings up and outwards, into the shape of a bat. He grasped the edges of the cape and began to steer his descent. The glide wasn't that good owing to the large hole the sword had sliced through it, but it was leagues above the alternative.  
Until the bullets started whistling around him,ricocheting off the gutters and streetlights, the corners of the buildings. He did his best to ignore them and stay his course. One bullet, a tracer, buzzed right past his nose,shattering the large glass window beside him.

He decided to change course. As he turned he caught sight of Deathstroke mid stride, slapping a clip into one of his pistols as he sprinted across the roof.

 _Surely he can't be..._

At the very last moment before his foot touched the edge of the roof Deathstroke leapt mightily.

 _My God, he is._

Impressively, he just kept coming and coming, sailing through the air.

It was like watching a slam dunk launched from the three point line, except the three point line was the adjacent building, and he was the rim. As he got closer he fired short bursts at Batman, the promethium tipped bullets ripping through the reinforced materials and shredding the cape. Batman slowly began to fall, for real this time.  
Instantly he fired off his grapnel at a nearby gargoyle, curling through the air and waiting until the line grew taut before he released it and rolled smoothly onto the roof of the building below. He stumbled and fell when he tried to rise.

 _Maybe not so smooth._

His back was sticky with sweat and blood. He knew the more he exerted his heart the more blood it pumped out of his wounds.

 _I have to get mobile, and fast._

He tapped the stud on his belt that would summon the Batmobile, then he crouched behind a large air vent. In a few short minutes it would be here. Problem was a few short minutes were an eternity in fight time. So much could happen in-between that time, especially against such an adversary such as this. When he got past that, it would be autopilot to the Cave, where Alfred would patch him up.

 _Hopefully. If I can get through this. No, **when** I get through this._

Already he could hear Deathstroke approaching over the light patter of rainfall. He must have jumped the whole distance. His steps were slow and measured. He was confident, arrogant even.

 _Good._

As Deathstroke neared his position, Batman prepared himself once again.

 _What was it the Sensei said about pain?_

He could practically see him now, somehow sitting cross legged atop a stone no larger than his fist, striking the butt of his cane on the ground in sync with Bruce's bloodied hands as they were thrust into buckets of hot sand again and again and again, sweat and tears mingling on his face in one big salty mess. He remembered how his hands had quivered violently, how the blood seeped from the blisters, how he wouldn't stop no matter how much it hurt.

Then Sensei had stroked his beard and said: ["Stop ignoring the pain you arrogant fool! Do you think your will is so great that you can shut it out?! Embrace it, go into it, go to its centre, and go through it!"].

Actually, he had called Bruce something much worse than a fool, but he couldn't remember the words.  
Perhaps it was Sensei who had taught him to be such a masochist.  
Perhaps he had always been that way and Sensei made him aware of it.

He couldn't help but smile at the memory. Sensei was the hardest taskmaster out of all his teachers, but his first year in the cowl taught him that there were things a lot worse than sore wrists and burst knuckles.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and focused on the pain-which made it about a hundred thousand times worse for the first few seconds-but then he began to fall through it, into the place where he wanted his mind to be. For injuries as serious as his the technique would only work for a few seconds, a minute if he really pushed himself. He had to make it count.

"Once again Batman, I am impressed. You are the first to survive this long. But we both know you're a dead man walking. Surrender now, and I'll make it quick and painless. You have my word."

Batman stepped out from behind the vent and spat a glob of blood onto the ground.

"The word of a hired gun? No thanks, I think I'll pass. You want to kill me, go ahead. But you won't be the first to try, or fail."

Slade's face convulsed with fury for a moment before he regained control. "Have it your way then."

He hacked downwards with a swift strike to decapitate him, but Batman responded with speed that utterly shocked him, catching the blade between the palm of his hands like a man saying a prayer.

"How?-" he began, but before he finished, the sword, the finest Japanese steel weapon he had ever had,possibly the oldest and most prized weapon in his possession, was snapped off at the tip, and an explosion of pain in his one good eye cut him short. He screamed, half in rage, half in agony.

Batman had broken the blade, held it in between his palms and driven the broken metal shard, pointy end first, straight into his eye. The response was immediate. Deathstroke went absolutely ballistic, screaming incoherently and punctuating it with the kind of swearing that would make a sailor blush. He swung the broken sword wildly like a baseball bat, having lost all semblance of the expert technique he had displayed just seconds before. It was like he was in a berserker state. When that failed to produce any results he started firing his sidearms, spraying bullets on the floor, the walls, into the sky. Everywhere but his target, who was long gone by then.

Batman had already crept stealthily down the fire escape, and there he stayed, concealed in the shadows, feeling the life seep out of him with each beat of his heart as he waited for the 'Mobile to arrive. He could hear it already, and his belt began to beep quietly, informing him it was close enough for him to fall from his position and land safely inside. His landing was far from graceful, it seemed like he hit everything he possibly could on the way down before he finally slid through the open roof panel and into the cabin.

"C...Computer, engage voice recognition."

"Recognized. Batman." The mechanical female voice said.

"Activate...autopilot. Destination...The Cave..." He was losing consciousness, but he struggled to hold on.

"Arm...defensive..systems. Set...evasive maneuvers...Use the shortest possible route...and...alert Alfred, its a Code Black."

"Acknowledged."

The last thing he saw before everything went black was the harness strapping him into the seat as the speedometer dial hit 100.

* * *

"Well now-"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"

"Calm yourself brother-"

"Are you deaf woman!?"

"I was only going to say-"

"WHAT!? YOU WERE ONLY GOING TO SAY WHAT, ATHENA?!"

"I told you so."

Ares disappeared in a puff of red smoke, leaving Athena behind to watch as the Batmobile snaked through the streets of Gotham.

 _Fascinating_ , she thought. _A chariot with a mind of its own, one that drives itself. Truly, there is no limi t to this mortals resourcefulness._

She had been around for far too long to believe in coincidences.  
This mortal existed at this point in time for a reason. She didn't want to think of that reason, though she had a pretty good idea what it was. Time would tell, and she had nothing if not time. She hoped she was wrong, but she was never wrong about these kinds of things, not in all the millennia of her existence.

And this time she couldn't help him like she helped Odysseus. Intuition told her he wouldn't want her assistance anyway. After watching his sleeping face for a few more minutes, she too vanished in cloud of grey smoke, her last thought before leaving this place was hope that he would survive.

* * *

 **A/N: Read and review.**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: I only have so many high octane chapters in me. Today we're at the docks, building some ships.**

* * *

The lights were off and the TV screen was on mute, the images flashing across the screen showing a blurry wall mounted camera. It recorded a hunched black figure creeping slowly towards a tied up woman who's face was the picture of perfect terror, tears and mucus streaming down her face. Normally this scene got her every time, but right now the fear in her heart was much worse.

Lois stared dumbfounded at the phone in her hand.

Her father had just called. Obviously he had found out she had been at the scene in Metropolis. Virtually the whole world had seen her report, and one of Jimmy's photo's-showing Wonder Woman and all the heroes in mid air in the heat of battle, just before the lasso landed around the androids shoulders-had gone viral, and there were whispers that it would win an award. She didn't know much about the photography end of the business, but she knew an iconic shot when she saw one, it was the kind of stuff that went on the cover of Time magazine. Whatever the outcome, Jimmy would go down in history as the guy that took the first shot of the JLA in action.

To say her father had been pissed off would have been the understatement of the year. Frankly she was surprised it had taken him so long to call. He was absolutely livid, and some things had been said on both sides that could never be taken back. At the end of the conversation he had more or less hinted at cutting her off completely. Battle lines had been drawn in the sand, all because of Superman.

Her father simply didn't understand why Lois believed in Superman so much. This wasn't the first time they had a disagreement, sometimes it seemed they argued about everything.

Sam Lane may have been a four star General, but he was no brick.

In high school he had been a total nerd, he was on the debate team and he was a mathlete.  
In college he wrote as his final term paper for Philosophy about the perils of a society that relied too much on financial wealth as a yardstick for success, and he further posited that self-actualization could only be fully realized if one found some deeper sense of spiritual fulfillment in their chosen vocation.  
At West Point Military Academy the joke was often told that he always had his nose buried in a book, whether it was one on military strategy or something as random and totally unrelated to his job as ebonics.

He had passed this on to Lois, because he recognized in her a fellow intellectual. Whenever he would come back from his theatres of duty he always came back with books, magazines, comics, anything with words really, and Lois would gobble it all up. She remembered the look of pride in his eyes the day she graduated from university. He had taken many embarrassing photos and he cried without shame. Not that anyone would have dared call him out on it, he could still be Scary Dad when he needed to be.

He wouldn't really cut her out of his life, would he?

It wasn't the money she was worried about, she didn't give a damn about the money, but she really did love her father.  
Life was never easy being an Army brat.

Always moving, never settling in one place for too long, always leaving friends behind. It was even harder if your parent was a senior officer, everyone treated you like you were a box of high explosive. She soon learned never to go past the superficial in her relationships, romantic or platonic, because she would always end up leaving after a short time anyway. She soon learned to be detached. Not that being a senior officer's kid was all bad. Nobody messed with you, for starters, and you got the best-and first-pick of everything. No one asked you any questions. If she walked into a garage to 'borrow' a Humvee, the serviceman on duty had to decide which Lane's wrath he wanted to incur.  
It didn't really matter, either way Sam Lane would find out, and he would put his boot so far up his ass they'd almost need surgery to have it removed.

She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a little bit spoiled and precocious.

It had its fun moments though, especially in her late teens, when she learned that soldiers partied as hard as they fought. Many a young cadet found themselves doing 'maintenance work' such as unclogging blocked toilets and cleaning out the barrack mess hall if Sam Lane so much as suspected they had winked at his little girl. And those brave-or stupid-enough to take her out on a date found themselves unceremoniously transferred to a backwater base in a town with a population of 1,000 dust motes.

Life was never easy as an Army brat, but she could say with absolute confidence she had the best Army parent ever.  
He always, always made time for her, never missed a single recital,sports event, or (rather unfortunately) PTA meetings. Lois had never known her mother, she had died of complications shortly after giving birth to her. It had fallen on Sam Lane to be both mum and dad when she was growing up. The only memory she had of her was a couple of old photographs. One in particular stood out in her mind, showing a much younger Sam Lane standing beside the hospital bed, looking proud with his chest thrust out and in full dress uniform, a rare smile on his face, and her mother holding Lois in her arms, looking tired but happy. She had long black hair and violet colored eyes, and her mouth was very red even without lipstick. Her mother had been very beautiful.

'Don't know what the hell she saw in a man with an ugly mug like mine.' Her father once said of her.

Lois didn't know what the hell he saw in the military. But even as she asked, she knew the reason. It was simple. Sam Lane was disgustingly, unapologetically patriotic. If his superiors told him to blow up a city full of puppies, he would nuke the shit out of it and never ever ask why. He was loyal to a fault. It was the most admirable thing about him, she thought, but it was also the most annoying. The Big Army did for him what journalism did for her. It didn't answer how someone so smart could be so stupid.

From day one, he had perceived Superman as a threat, it was just the Army in him. He saw Superman the same way he saw Captain Atom, as a living weapon, except Captain Atom was all good because he worked for the Man.  
Oddly, if you pushed Sam Lane hard enough, he would acknowledge (albeit grudgingly, very grudgingly) that Superman was a force for good, but he always stressed that such a person, with such great power, could not be allowed to operate unchecked.  
According to him, Superman was just one bad day away from killing everything.

Funny he didn't think the same of Captain Atom, in fact he seemed so sure that Captain Atom would never ever go rogue. Whenever they came to that point in the debate, her father would always assume a very smug expression.

Her musings were cut short by a rapping on the french doors of her balcony. That should have been impossible this many floors up. Unless it was...

She did a quick check to make sure everything was fine, then she opened the door. And when the cold wind blew in she was reminded that she was wearing nothing but a large t-shirt.

IDIOT, she screamed internally.

"Um, hi." he said with a sheepish grin.

"Hi." Her voice sounded small to her. She cleared her throat. "How did you know where I live?"

He coughed.

"This will sound really creepy but...I know your heartbeat."

Lois felt herself blushing slightly.

"Really?"

"...Yes. Every heartbeat is unique."

She stood with her hand at the door as he hovered in the air, unsure what to do next.

"God, where are my manners. Come in."

"Thank you."

He glanced at the screen and his eyes widened slightly. Lois followed his gaze. The hunched figure had now straightened itself and was standing beside the woman, jabbing two very long needles into her neck as she hyperventilated violently. Lois quickly turned off the television.

"Sorry. Horror movie night."

"The Poughkeepsie Tapes? Where did you get it? It's so hard to find."

"Y...Yes. Yes it is actually. I borrowed it. From a friend." she said, stunned.

"I don't spend all my time saving lives." he said by way of explanation.

"It certainly doesn't seem that way. Please, have a seat." she said, smoothing her crumpled white t-shirt and cursing herself for her laxity. I must look terrible. In the time it had taken her to think this, he had already scanned the entire room and everything in it.

Here and there was a tasteful art piece, a memento from some far off corner of the globe. She did say she liked to travel. On one of the walls there was a large embroidered tapestry.  
The carpet underfoot was thick and soft, he felt like he was standing on a giant pillow. There was a small bookshelf with several neatly stacked novels, then more novels stacked in an increasingly messy manner as they piled above each other. There were a lot of magazines too, many in languages he didn't recognize. The furniture was very Lois Lane. Very chic and minimalistic.  
The TV was the only exception, it was impossibly huge,a 60 incher at the very least. It took up most of the room. He noted with some amusement that there was a gaming console with what looked like a first-person shooter atop it. He had never figured her for the gaming type. There was also a stereo and surround sound that looked expensive judging by its shiny black lacquered finish. On the coffee table there was a Macbook Pro that lay dormant. Most likely she had been working on something. There was an open bottle of wine beside it, with a glass that was a quarter full. He was happy to see there were no tell tale signs of male life in here.

 _And I'm happy about that because...?_

The chair was like a marshmallow. It was ridiculously soft, and it seemed to be trying to eat him. He had no idea how she was sitting cross legged on it so easily.

"Nice spread." he said. Then he realised how it sounded. "I meant the house." he added quickly.

"Thanks. I did it all myself y'know." she said with a touch of pride. The nervousness was forgotten. Already she was herself again. "So what can I do you for?"

He cleared his throat.

"Actually its what I can do to you. I mean FOR you." he amended quickly. My God. What the hell?!

Lois pretended not to notice his slip up.

"Go on."

He took a deep breath.

"I've decided to join the JLA."

She blinked. The big scoops just keep on coming. Already her brain was working feverishly on an article. Jimmy would have to get that really expensive camera he owned, because there would certainly be some fanfare for Earth's first and most hated alien joining Earth's first team of super-friends. And Clark would have to get his ass in gear too. This needed the Trinity, wrecked office space or not.

But Clark was away helping his parents on the farm...No matter. The wonders of modern technology would fix that. She only hoped they had computers in Smallville. And internet. Whenever he described his home he made it sound like this amazing American Heartland where the air was clean and fresh, the bushels of wheat were fat and golden, and the milk from the cows was thick and creamy.

Lois always visualised a barn and a decrepit house far apart from all civilization, with a toothless old man in coveralls, his skin tanned to the color of bacon, driving an ancient rusted tractor and wielding a pitchfork for no apparent reason. And whenever he spoke of Jonathan and Martha she visualized the pair from the American Gothic painting.

But now wasn't the time to be thinking of that.

"I see. So, I'm the first person to know this?"

He nodded.

"I thought it would be good if I let you know first. I wouldn't want you to hear about this from some other source."

"Mhmm. Well thanks."

"Don't mention it. It's the least I can do after all you've done for me." He rose.

"Leaving so soon?" she asked as casually as possible, sipping from the glass of wine.

He hesitated.

"Well...I don't want to interrupt your plans..."

"Yeah, right, because a half empty wine bottle and a horror movie qualify as 'plans'."

"I assume you'd have other plans."

"You can stay if you want."

"I...I'd really love to but... I have to go. You know how it is."

"It's all right." she said, masking her disappointment masterfully. "Wait, you 'assumed'?"

Superman turned with a small, almost embarrassed smile.

"Well, I imagine someone like you..well.."

"Yes?" she was obviously enjoying this.

"You know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do actually. You'll just have to be more specific."

He had to be very, very careful here. Once Lois took offense, she never, EVER, forgot it.

"I imagine a woman of your...reputation...would have many...suitors."

"Are you saying I'm easy?"

"No! Not at all! Not that there would be anything wrong with that, mind you. I don't do the slut shaming thing..." Jesus Christ Clark, dig any deeper and you'll strike oil.

"What I mean is, I figure a woman like you probably has a lot of guys knocking down her door."

"Yeah well, you'd be wrong Superman. Most men are just somewhat...intimidated by me."

Understatement of the year, he thought. He heard some of the crap from the men-even a few women-at the water cooler. Lois was 'opinionated' a 'ball-buster',and 'too aggressive'.  
Then the same people turned around and called Perry 'steadfast', 'meticulous' and 'determined' when he exhibited the same traits. The last time Jimmy tried to stop them someone had called him an SJW and then everything went to hell afterwards, ending with a few unpaid suspensions and a bill for a damaged trailing socket and a broken laptops.  
Jimmy seemed to have the ability to attract conflict without even trying.

Still he expected men outside the Daily Planet offices, the type of guys that drove German cars and wore Italian suits, to snap her up immediately.

 _And why not?_

She was intelligent, and she was passionate about her job. She may have lived luxuriously and made a show of her disdain for the 'lesser' things in life, but he had seen her wade through garbage juice, blood, fecal matter and god only knows what just to interview someone so a story could see the light of day. And if that story touched her heart- even threats of bodily harm wouldn't faze her for an instant. She was also the only person who kept him on his toes in both personas. Of course her pretty face played a big part in it too.

 _God, who am I kidding. I still like her. And now its the real her._

"Well, that's their loss then." he said with an easy smile that he hoped was more Friendly Compliment than Let's Get Nekkid.

"See you around Lois." he said before he flew out of the room.

* * *

 **A/N: I've never liked the idea that Lois gushes and fawns over Superman as though he is some God. It made sense back in the 60's when women were toys men came home to play with. However considering her personality, I don't think she'd be that type of woman at all.**  
 **Read and review.**


	39. Chapter 39

Alfred had been sitting snugly in bed, a blanket draped over his legs, sipping a cup of hot cocoa as he watched a rerun of Fawlty Towers.

The satellite dish at Wayne Manor literally had thousands of channels, he had no idea how Bruce had managed it, it seemed he had somehow tapped into every frequency in that side of the world,but he certainly wasn't complaining. Sometimes he got homesick, and watching the show was a good remedy. It reminded him of what he might have been doing had he stayed at home-running the small inn his mother's family owned at Dover Beach. Lately he had been wondering about that, if he had made the right decision in coming here. The Pennyworth's had served the Wayne's for generations, but he was starting to think maybe he would have been happier back home.

 _Nonsense. I have a good life here. It has its wild moments, but it is better than most people will ever have in their lives._

Saying it has its wild moments was a gross understatement. But Master Bruce was getting better at his nighttime activities. He hadn't had reason for worry in ages. Plus the weather here was better.  
Well, not exactly... In many ways Gotham was just like home. Cold, grey, dark, misty. The skies were dull more often than they were bright. Not so different from home then. The staff quarters were miles above what he had though, and he got to drive Bentley's and Roll's Royces on occassion. How many people could say that about their lives?

That was when the alarm went off, a low whine in his earpiece, which he always wore when Batman was on the prowl, just in case.

 _Dear Lord, just when I thought..._

He quickly slipped his feet into the carpet slippers and dashed downstairs to the 'basement' as quickly as he dared. When he got to the computer console and saw the message flashing across the screen, his heart sank.  
Code black meant Master Bruce was fatally wounded.

The last time that had happened the blood stains had taken a week to clean off of everything, and the sheer amount of gauze, stitches, cotton swabs and alcohol rub that had been used was staggering. It had been extremely close, and it was from this last time that they had learned to keep reserves of Bruce's blood on hand, just in case he required a transfusion.  
Alfred rushed to the medical cabinet and readied the supplies. There were no painkillers. Master Bruce hated painkillers, claiming the loss of pain, or 'discomfort' as he called it, wasn't worth the reduction in his cognitive and reflexive abilities.

At times Alfred suspected Bruce liked pain on some strange, animal level.

He tried sitting calmly at the console, but after a few seconds he knew it was no good. He paced up and down impatiently, awaiting Bruce's arrival.  
After what seemed like ages but had actually been 3 minutes, the ground began to hum, and shortly after a large metal vent in the walls gave way, the Batmobile screaming through and crashing heavily onto the ground, skidding to a halt with a handbrake turn. The roof panel opened, revealing an unconscious Batman, and an interior that was sticky with blood. That would take a lot of hot water to clean.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred shouted in alarm, breaking the cardinal rule of referring to his civilian identity when he was in costume. He lifted him out of the seat and carried him to the operating table.

He was so heavy...

Immediately he set upon removing the costume, touching the secret crevices known only to him and Bruce that would allow the armor to come off without alternately electrocuting or gassing the handler. The wounds were terrible, much worse than anything he had seen before. The cuts were clean, neat, almost surgical in precision.  
Whatever had been used had barely missed the vital organs. Alfred shuddered. He had the feeling whoever did this did it on purpose, it wasn't a kill shot, it was to maim. To cause maximum suffering without killing straight away.  
His head throbbed with an uncharacteristic burst of anger at the person who would do this to his son...

The wounds had clotted somewhat, but they were still bleeding far more than he would have liked. He checked his pulse.  
It was weak, but there. His breathing was shallow. After carefully examining the wounds he knew they were too much for him. He had some dressing skills for field wounds, but this was beyond him.  
He made up his mind without even thinking about it, reaching for the cell phone in his pocket. He was stopped short by Bruce's hand. He nearly screamed in terror, but he was pleased that he was conscious at least.

"What are you doing." Bruce said, rather than asked.

Alfred tried to wrench his hand away, but he found the grip on his wrist surprisingly firm.

"You know exactly what. I must call an ambulance."

"No Alfred. No hospital."

"Sir-"

"No!" He began coughing violently, his face a paroxysm of pain. Alfred couldn't bear to see him suffer so. He was shivering too,and his skin was turning a sickly grey-blue, both sure-fire signs of massive blood loss.

The next stage would be...

"Sir, I'm afraid I must insist. Your injuries are too severe, they require surgery and medication, this isn't something I can do here."

"Do..what you can... Just...give me a transfusion... Stitch them up...I'll be fine... Lived through worse..."

 _Lived through their deaths._

His eyes looked wild. He was delirious.

"You have never before been this severely injured sir, you know it as well as I do."

"You should see...the other guy..."

Telling a joke at such a time was a sure sign that Bruce was out of it.

"Master Bruce, please-"

"No hospitals!" Bruce bellowed again, this time the look in his eyes intensified, and the wheels of understanding slowly turned in Alfred's head.  
It wasn't delirium he saw in them, it was fear.  
Fear that he would be outed as the Batman, that he would no longer be able to continue his crusade.  
He feared the discovery of his secret more than death itself. This angered Alfred more than anything else.

"My God,are you mad?! Do you want to die here, now, like this!? I can't fix you, don't you understand!? This is beyond me! There is nothing I can do!" He wondered at the double meaning in his words even as he said them.

"F...fff..find..a way...We always...always find a way..."

Alfred was struggling to hold back the tears that brimmed at his eyelids.

"I can't... I can't work miracles Bruce...I can't..." his voice was thick with emotion.

Miracles, yes, he'd need all the miracles in all the good books of the world to save him now.

He had never believed in them. Had never believed in God either, though he had read all types of holy scripture from cover to cover, back when he had foolishly sought a reason for his suffering, for the senseless violence he had didn't believe in God, perhaps the concept of one, but not in the deity itself.  
Not in a world this screwed up. Even if he did exist, he obviously didn't care.  
So why bother?  
It made no difference in the end. You are born, you suffer, and then you die.

He looked up at Alfred's face.

It was blurry,hard to make out. He could hear him speaking, but he sounded like he was on the far end of a tunnel.

 _I suppose there are worse ways to go._

This would hurt Alfred, he knew it, but it could have been much worse. He could have been called by the Police to identify a severed head and mutilated body.  
At least this way he could say goodbye.

If only Zatanna was here too...

 _Yes._

 _Yes! Should have thought of it before...  
_

"Zatanna...Call...Zatanna..." he said, then everything faded to black.

* * *

 **A/N: Read and review**


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: Apologies for the silence. I wrote this chapter long before the Suicide Squad film, but laziness and the desire to get certain details just right prevented me from posting it sooner. I hope you like it better than the film. Still haven't watched it. My God I need to get my act together.  
**

 **Quick glossary for those who didn't grow up on Call of Duty and Medal of Honor:**

 **US SOCOM- United States Special Operations Command**

 **SOPMOD-Special Operations Modified**

 **NVGs- Night Vision Goggles**

 **CAG- Combat Applications Group, the current name for the 1st SFOD-D aka Delta Force.  
**

 **NAVSPECWARDEVGRU- Naval Special Warfare Development Group aka SEAL Team 6**

 **SF- Special Forces (Green Berets)  
**

 **SOF-Special Operations Forces (Rangers, SEALs, Marine Recon/MARSOC, Airforce CCTs/PJs)  
**

 **ODA-A- Operational Detachment Alpha or A-Team, basically a team of the best operators in a Special Forces battalion, usually numbers up to 12 or more specialists in a particular field such as weapons, combat medicine, intelligence gathering, mechanical engineering, communications and transport.  
**

 **Tabs- Airborne, Ranger and Special Forces tabs signifying special operator status either past or present**

 **The Teams-A general term for special operations units, most commonly used by SEALs.**

 **CIF Teams- highly trained units in the Army Special Forces reserved for deployment by the Army SF commander only**

 **Q course- SFQC, Special Forces Qualifications Course. Self explanatory.**

* * *

 **Lahore,Pakistan**

"Two guards, coming right at your location. Don't worry, I got 'em."

The sniper inhaled gently as he aimed the crosshairs in the scope of his M200 Cheytac Intervention sniper rifle at the head of one of the guards. He held his breath and allowed his forefinger to curl around the trigger.

He was positioned on a building a few blocks away, acting as overwatch. This rifle was much better than the shitty Dragunov he'd been using. Much better stopping power and far more accurate. Evidently they were getting more funding now.

The streets were busy and he could even hear the music from a club several hundred metres away, but he didn't want to risk anyone hearing anything, so the muzzle was surpressed. This op, like all the other ops they'd had recently, was a covert one.

 _Just like old times_ , he thought as he began squeezing the trigger gently, as he had learned at the shooting ranges in Fort Benning all those years ago. At such moments he always recalled the very first words of his instructor, spoken in his calm, even voice as he strode slowly up and down the line of men standing at attention. He could almost smell the place now, with its ever present scent of cordite and gun oil mixed with the dry harshness of the sandy soil. Even as he prepared to fire, his mind went back to that first time.

* * *

'My name is not important, nor is my rank, but you may call me God, because that's what I'm going to be to you for the next 6 months. My job is to teach you how to be coe-man-does. You might think you're John Rambo because you've got your tabs and made it to The Teams. You might even think you're hot shit because you've got a slot to join the CIF and A-Team. Well, I'm here to tell you, y'all don't know shit about shit. Right now you are still wannabes, nothing more than physically fit, mentally tough morons with combat skills that are slightly better than the average grunt. You are soft and squishy. You are baby food. When I am done with you fairies, you will be expert marksmen with rifles, carbines, and handguns. You will be expert handlers of all types of explosives. You will master HALO and HAHO jumps, you will master combat diving to the point you can give a SEAL a run for his money. Hell, if I'm feeling generous I might even teach you how to use a throwing knife. You will be the finest hunters and killers in the United States Army's Special Forces. You will embody the credo of One Shot, One Kill. You will be capable of operating under all conditions, in all environments. Rain or shine, snow or hail, in the sweltering heat of the Amazon rainforest or in the freezing cold mountains of Tian Shan. You will be capable of doing this blindfolded, in your sleep, with one arm tied behind your back. For those of you that think this is good old fashioned drill sergeant dick swinging, you will soon learn that I _always_ mean exactly what I say. You are going to have nightmares about me for the rest of your natural born lives.'

That wiped the smirks right off of the men's faces.

'Today's lesson is basic marksmanship.'

The men were visibly deflated, even insulted. They were hoping to learn some combat shooting, which was much more exciting.

'Don't look so glum boys, this is only day one, we'll have plenty of time for the sexy high-speed stuff later. Now the easiest and also the hardest thing to keep in mind is that this is about hitting the target exactly so, not combat shooting. You will be stationary every single time you take aim, and you will remain absolutely still when you fire.  
The slightest movement interferes with the trajectory of the bullet and causes it to miss the target, especially at longer distances, which is essentially what sniping is all about. In the field, for those of you that aren't snipers, you ought to know that you don't move at all. It doesn't matter if all the bugs in the forest descend upon you. It doesn't matter if a python crawls up your pants and crushes your penis. It doesn't matter if an angel comes down from heaven and says you have been chosen to ascend to greatness.  
You. Never. Move.  
So for all you rookies that just made it through the Q course, keep that shit in mind today. I won't be your nurse maid, so if you fuck up on my shooting range your ass is out of here. Under no circumstances will you move a muscle other than your shooting eye and your trigger finger once you are lined up for a kill shot. The last thing you want is to be adjusting your rifle right when the target appears.  
That goes for everything. You need to take a leak, you need to take a shit, you go in your pants.'

Floyd had giggled at this, which was his first mistake, because the instructor stopped speaking immediately.

'Did I say something funny Corporal Lawton?'

Floyd risked a look at the Lieutenant, wondering how on earth he knew his name already when they had only just met.

The instructor was, in the street parlance, a beast.

Easily 6'5, probably 200 lbs, all of it solid muscle.  
His posture was relaxed but he still radiated danger. His neck and arms were thick and corded. His blond hair was cut short, but still longer than military regulation, and he had a wicked beard that made him look almost feral. He looked to be in his mid forties,50, maximum.  
He wasn't wearing any medals, or fruit salad as they called them. He wasn't even wearing cammies.

Instead he was dressed in some sort of badass all black Under Armour PT gear. Every SOCOM operator knew black kit was the preserve of tier one units, the guys who handled counter terrorism, the Jedi of the military. You could just tell he was a veteran of some very hard fought battles. There was a certain steel to him, it was almost palpable. Word going round the barracks was he was on loan from the CAG, brought here to help train the hopefuls for the CIF team and the A-Team, which Floyd was hoping to join.  
Another word going around the barracks, not too loudly though, was that he was one of the few who had taken part in Operation Gothic Serpent in Mogadishu, and he was the reason a good chunk of the other men there that day ever got out alive.

His eyes were covered with a pair of very cool black Oakley shades. He looked like death.

'I asked you a question Corporal.'

'No sir, you did not say anything funny sir.'

'Good. Because when you've been lying in a muddy ditch in some God forsaken corner of this Earth for 8 hours straight in the biting cold, and the rain has been pissing down on you all day, and you're waiting for a high value target to poke his head out of his hidey hole so you can drill a .50cal slug through his skull; believe you me Corporal, you will be so grateful for the warmth of your hot, smelly turd in your pants, you won't have time to be amused.'  
He looked at Floyd for a second longer, then he resumed his marching commentary.

'Your rifles are behind you. This is the first and last time you will find them assembled for you. After that you will have to do it yourselves, with every type of sniper rifle and assault rifle there is, including those used by enemy forces. You will also have to do it blindfolded, and you will be timed. Once again, I am not bullshitting you.'

This elicited groans of dismay.

'You wanted an easier job boys, you should have stayed in the Big Army. You're Green Berets now, and its called the A-Team for a reason. So if you thought the Q course was the hard part, then you're in for a rude shock, because life in The Teams is a million times harder; and for those of you with aspirations of crossing over to the dark side of counter-terrorism operations, dream on, because maybe 2 out of the 70 men here will ever have what it takes to be a Jedi.'

Floyd could have sworn he was looking at him when he said that, but the moment was gone as soon as it had come.

'Take your positions. Good. Always take your time and pick your target carefully, because if you miss, you may not get a second chance. Remember to breathe before taking the shot, because the slightest drop in blood oxygen can make a tiny little target disappear. Remember to hold your breath in the instant before you take the shot, because breathing, however gentle, alters the trajectory of the bullet. That can be a very bad thing when you're shooting from a very long distance, which, once again, is essentially what sniping is all about. Squeeze the trigger so gently the gun surprises you when it goes off. That way the bullet flies as straight and true as possible, give or take wind speed and the humidity in the air, which you must always adjust for of course. Now, fire.'

* * *

"Don't bother." came the reply in his earpiece, snapping him out of his trance, and his walk down memory lane.

He took his cheek off the stock of the rifle butt and watched as the new meat, a scrappy little lady by the name of Selina Kyle, somersaulted skyward and caught herself between two pillars, just before the two guards rounded the corner.

 _Impressive._

"Next patrol should come round in about 10 minutes, Kyle. Make it count."

10 minutes was plenty of time for Selina to get the 'item', and get the hell out before the armed guards surrounding the place caught sight of her.  
She was good, maybe the best at what she did in the world, but even she didn't want to tempt fate.

"Shit." she heard him say in her earpiece.

"Shit? Why shit? Hello? Talk to me Deadshot!" She hissed.

"12 hostiles, converging on your area from multiple directions."

He squinted through the rifle scope, studying the men.

They were heavily armed, and though they were far apart, they walked in perfect unison, their faces covered with balaclavas.  
They had the whole goddamn kit on.  
NVGs, kevlar body armor in tactical black, flak jackets, frag and incendiary grenades, modified rifles, breaching charges, the works.  
He spotted some SOPMOD M4A1s and a couple of SCAR CALs tricked out with taclights...hell, one of them was even carrying a tactical shotgun complete with a surpressor.

Those were standard issue US SOCOM weapons, he noted with not so mild alarm.

There was no mistaking it, they were headed straight for the Selina.

Something was very wrong here.

The op had been compromised, probably from the very start.

 _Waller, that bitch. Sending us into the meat grinder just for kicks, as per fuckin' usual.  
_

Who the hell was this guy to have fucking D-Boys protecting his residence anyway?

"Catwoman, get the hell out of there now. Those guys coming for you aren't your average rent-a-cops, they're Delta Force. Abort mission, repeat, abort mission now."

"Like hell I am." Selina hissed back. She ran through the compound in full glare of the security lights.  
If the job was screwed and she was going to die, she was still going to try and get it done.  
It's not like what was waiting afterwards was particularly inviting anyway.

The 'item' in question was a cellphone.

Seemed easy enough for a thief of her caliber to steal, except the owner of the cell phone took it everywhere he went,and everywhere meant everywhere. They had it on good authority that the guy took calls on the crapper.

There was also the fact that he was always guarded by at least 4 bodyguards at any one time, and they were always, always switched on. If anyone came within 5 feet of him they formed a defensive ring surrounding him. It was like a boxer being walked to the ring by his entourage every time the guy so much as stopped to buy a newspaper. And when he rode through the streets you'd think it was a president driving by, there were so many cars in his motorcade.  
So that meant Selina couldn't 'accidentally' bump into him and lift the phone from his inner coat pocket like she usually did.

He was a government type judging by the flag on his vehicle; and a rich one too judging by his massive villa with its tennis court and heated swimming pool. Then there was that fancy Academy his kids went to, the kind with an expat principal, a 'diverse' student body and 'interactive' methods of teaching.

They had said the target was a diplomat, but if she had to guess she'd have said this guy was CIA or a private contractor connected to them. Whatever he was, her 'employers' didn't seem to know what he was doing here, which wasn't comforting.

During the briefing, when Selina asked why they were stealing from an American diplomat in Pakistan, she received a boot in the stomach and a polite request to shut the fuck up and keep her eyes on the ground.  
The guard couldn't have known who he was dealing with, but he sure would now, because he was lying in the infirmary with a broken neck and a shattered collarbone. Halfway through the beating, as she stomped on his face, she was once again politely reminded via intercom that there was an implant in her skull that could be remotely detonated at any time the holder pleased, now if she could please sit down and listen like a good girl the warden would see to it that she got two meals a day instead of the usual one.

 _If_ the mission was successful.

Which is why she was climbing up the wall of the villa to the top floor window, holding onto the edges of windowsills and moving her hands and feet in tandem against the crevices between as quickly as she could, until she got to her destination.

* * *

Watching from his position on the roof, Deadshot was starting to understand why her call-sign was Catwoman.  
He watched with interest as she swung herself, one armed up, and over onto the windowsill, then somehow she opened the window from the outside and disappeared into the blackness within.  
Within seconds she had emerged once more, forsaking fancy footwork for a triple backflip-he counted-and landing smoothly on the balls of her feet.

 _Very impressive._

If ever someone had a chance of breaking out, she did.

Except for the small matter of the explosive device embedded in the base of her skull.

He realized his heart was thudding mightily in his chest just watching the performance, though he was doing absolutely nothing himself.

"I've got it. Talk to me Deadshot! How close are they?" her voice crackled in his earpiece.

He remembered he could speak. And he remembered he should have been watching the soldiers, not her. That was what 'watch my back' really meant. They had already split up in the short time it had taken him to lose concentration.

"...Uh..."

 _Uh? Get a grip goddammit!_

"Hostiles incoming...ETA 20 seconds... Hold position."

"You know Deadshot, I'd appreciate if you stopped playing soldier and talked like normal folks." Selina said as she sprinted past the bright security lights again, bullets thudding softly in the earth all around her. Thank God these were just the rent-a-cops. Even she was a better shot with a gun.

"Hardy-har-har. For your information Catwoman, before I started doing this shitty detail, I was actually a military sniper, and the best assassin in the world. Not that that kind of thing would matter to a low class criminal like yourself."

"No wonder you're such an arrogant bastard."

"Honey, it ain't trickin' if you got it. Now shut up before they hear you. Two hostiles, coming in from the south west. Hold position. Firing, danger close."

He squeezed off one shot that ripped through the first soldiers skull and embedded itself inside the skull of the next. They fell over at the same time, the blood pooling around their heads. Selina gagged as she watched their brains leak out of their shattered skulls like overeasy scrambled eggs. She had seen a lot of fucked up things in her time, but she had never seen the contents of a human head.

"Ok, you're clear. I'll cover you until you make it to the bushes. Then you're on your own to the extraction point."

"So tell me, what's a white collar criminal like yourself doing in a shithole like Belle Reve, hm? Insider trading perhaps?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Actually, I would."

"Word of advice kid, that's not how this suicide squad works. We're not besties, we're not going to bond like the cast of every prison movie you ever saw. We're just a group of bad apples with unique skill sets that are beneficial to some shady faceless people. They let us out of our cosy little cells every once in awhile, but not without reminding us that they can turn our heads into pink mist at the push of a button. Somewhere along the way, if you put enough hours under your belt and you survive every mission, maybe, just maybe you can slowly erode your sentence and one day walk out of the hell hole that is Belle Reve Penitentiary. I've never seen anyone leave that place alive. Ever."

 _Well you've never seen someone like me,_ Selina thought.

He squeezed off two more shots, dropping four more soldiers.  
Half down. No time to pat himself on the back.  
The others had been alerted of his presence, they would be extra careful now.

"You've been waiting to dish out that monologue for a while, haven't you? I can tell. How long have you been here exactly? A long time I'm guessing. Suicide Squad, hm? You probably coined the name. Patent pending and everything."

Floyd ground his teeth in irritation.

The levels he had been reduced to. From prolific assassin to taking shit from a cat burglar-an admittedly skilled cat burglar but a cat burglar all the same-who barely looked old enough to have arm pit hair.  
The worst part was he had actually come up with the name after their first mission. Like every single mission it seemed afterwards,that one had gone tits up and 6 of the 11 jailbirds he went into the field with died by remote detonation. They had been foolish enough to believe the Democratic Republic of Congo was far enough from Belle Reve for the detonators not to work.  
Floyd, who had seen missiles launched from advanced battleships off the coast of Hawaaii eviscerate enemy bases completely as far away as the Kush mountains of Afghanistan, knew better. Range is a relative term, especially when it comes to explosives, especially when they are embedded in the base of your skull.

"All right smart ass, you've succeeded in pissing me off. Good luck making the exfil without support. Deadshot out."

He clicked off his receiver just as Selina began swearing at him, and he began disassembling the sniper rifle, storing it away in his duffel bag. He would walk down the stairs and right through the streets carrying the weapon at his leisure. One of the many things he had learned from his soldiering days was that being white-and American to boot-in a foreign nation, was more often than not, a hall pass. He may have stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of brown faces and colorful clothes, but he knew nobody would dream of stopping or searching him, and this was the good part of town anyway, nobody would try anything. If they did,well, he had a back-up piece for nosy citizens.

Had he been wearing his costume, he would definitely have been stopped. But as it was, dressed in blue jeans, a white t-shirt and Chuck Taylors, he just looked like a tourist, possibly on the prowl for hookers or hashish. Selina on the other hand, was wearing her black jumpsuit and NVG's. Even the dumbest cop with the greatest of colonial hangovers would be forced to stop and question her, especially in a place like this where the women didn't exactly walk down the street dressed in skintight leather bodysuits.

* * *

Hundreds of thousands of miles away, Amanda Waller watched the happenings on a screen, which was getting its footage from a drone flying low over the area, with audio courtesy of their receivers.

"Jesus Amanda, where do you find these people?" She turned to the man with a cold smile.

"That's my secret Max. All you need to know is that I do find them. Trust me, I know this girl, she'll get you that phone."

"I sure hope so. Aren't you going to do something about Deadshot just leaving her in the cold like that?"

Waller shrugged.

"That's cold."

"You know Max, this isn't a daycare I'm running here. We both know Checkmate isn't just some pseudo Knights of The Round Table gig with delusions of honor and nobility in the dirty work we all do at Task Force X. The Rooks and Knights may believe that, but those of us higher up in the hierarchy know better."

"I resent the condescending tone in your voice Amanda."

"Resent it all you like. Fact is, this Suicide Squad is a crew of pirates. And when you are the captain of a crew of pirates, it helps to pick people that don't get along, makes it that much harder for them to stage a mutiny. I'd understand Lynch giving me this crap because he's a stupid cowboy who still believes he's honorably serving his country in some sick twisted way with his death squad of supersoldiers, but not from you. You and I know better. We don't do this for the stars and stripes, we certainly don't do it for Truth, Justice and the American way. We do it to preserve power in the hands of the powerful, so just stop cheating yourself and drop the false morality."

Max burst into laughter.

"Well shit Amanda. You certainly put me in my place. Alright, I'll drop it, but only because I was worried you might still have some of that stupid cowboy in you. After all, I was born a Spook. You're the one that was on...what did you call it? Lynch's 'death squad of supersoldiers.'"

"That was a long time ago Max. I've grown up since then."

"Yeah? What changed?"

"I realized all we were doing was fighting so someone could build bigger skyscrapers."

"And now?"

"Now I get other people to do the fighting for me, and I'm a hell of a lot better off for it."

"Yes, I saw that gunmetal grey E-Class in the parking lot. I thought of you immediately."

They were silent for a few moments as they watched Selina arrive at the extraction point successfully.  
She hopped out of the red Ford Siesta after it skidded to a halt just before the Blackhawk.  
She had obviously stolen it.

Her suit was torn in some places and there was blood on her, but she looked okay.  
Max laughed and Waller smiled as Selina punched the grinning Deadshot in the face with a well placed right hook, knocking him out with one clean hit. He obviously didn't know she was as good at fighting as she was at stealing. This time they saw everything up close courtesy of the camera mounted on the helo pilot's helmet. He very nearly got beaten up himself for trying to stop Selina-who was now kicking the unconscious Deadshot repeatedly in the head-but she held off at the last minute when 6 men in all black body armor with balaclavas came out pointing laser designated MP5K's in her face. The look of surprise on her face was priceless as she realised they too were soldiers, and that the whole thing had been an elaborate set up, probably to test her abilities.

Max stopped laughing abruptly.

"Hold on a minute, isn't she the one from the JLA? The one that just kind of dropped off the map after they introduced her in public?"

"One and only. Did you think it was another Catwoman wearing a leather jumpsuit?"

"Frankly yes, I was hoping for that. Jesus Christ Amanda, metahuman criminals and mercenaries are one thing, but superheroes? Have you lost your fucking mind?!" Max asked with real alarm in his voice.

"Calm down."

"Calm down?! Calm down?! These people have a presidential pardon, the fucking United Nations sat down and more or less allowed them to go global with their heroics, and you're telling me to calm down?! You might not work for this flag, but if it comes down to it, the System will take a giant shit on you, on all of us, to save itself."

He was pacing now. Waller put a hand on his shoulder.

"Max, I'd ask you to remember your position in this organisation."

He paused, inhaling deeply.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have used such language with you."

"There's no need to worry. Selina Kyle has a criminal record that stretches from here to Jupiter. She's a murderer, a thief of everything from cars and jewellery to identities, and she is an extortionist of the highest order. Believe me, if this were to go public-and it never will-the world would side with us, like it always does. Just look at what happened with Snowden, Manning and Assange. People will always kill the messenger, and they'll always want to believe we're good people doing bad things for good reasons."

"If that doesn't work?"

"Just throw the word 'terrorist' around, talk about national security, and everybody follows blindly. Anyone raises questions you just label them unpatriotic."

"It's a beautiful system, isn't it?" Max mused.

"Yes it is, been using it since Communism, and we have McCarthy to thank for that."

"You're forgetting that there was no internet during McCarthyism, Amanda. Newspapers and radio were the medium of information and they were so much easier to put the squeeze on compared to present day outlets. If its not the damned liberal rags, its some kid on the corner with an opinion and an I-phone to record anyone who disagrees with it."

"Where are you going with this?"

"What if the world doesn't side with us? Opinions change even if people don't. Who's to say they won't take her side? This time last year Superman was Public Enemy number 1, now there's talk of building a statue in his honor in Metropolis, and even the JLA has extended an invitation to him."

"'Us' doesn't even exist, technically speaking. Nobody knows about Checkmate. But in the rare event we are discovered, as I said, Miss Kyle is a violent criminal with a rap sheet as thick as a bible. With her record and a couple of calls to our friends in the media, it wouldn't be hard to make it seem like she's an escaped convict on a rampage, or some nut operating purely on her own volition. God knows there are plenty of those running around."

"I assume you're talking about the Bat-character of Gotham? He's been in the news recently. Although I assume you've always known about him."

"Of course. This is still the CIA. We know everything." She turned to the screen, which showed a sulking Selina seated beside a still unconscious Deadshot in the back of the helicopter.

"You know what does worry me Max, is that there are more of these weirdos cropping up every day, they're like cockroaches. The latest is some Robin Hood type in Star City. I think the next 20 years are going to be very interesting, to say the very least."

"When you say you know everything, do you mean everything in general, or everything about him? The Batman I mean?"

"I could point out that the former dictates the latter."

"Don't play with me Amanda."

"I'd tell you Max, but that information is way above your pay grade."

"Well then, can you tell me if he's going to be a problem? I mean what's to stop him from playing a larger role in the future?"

"Unfortunately, nothing. Now that he's actually shown himself on the world stage, he may well be a problem. Judging by his effect on criminal operations in Gotham he's not your average super."

"I don't follow."

"Most of these 'heroes' are certainly quite powerful, but so far they don't seem exceptionally bright, with the exception of Batman and the Flash-"

"The speedster from Central City."

"Yes. Exempting those two, I'd say the current crop of 'heroes' are more reactive than proactive. Batman for example, clearly has plans and tactics formulated. His activities seem random to the average law enforcement agent, but there is a systematic strategy to all his movements. Still, none of the heroes know what goes on in the shadows. As far as I know neither does he, but if he ever gets a whiff of our scent I have a nasty feeling he'll follow it to the end."

"He's just one man. How dangerous can he be?"

"Well, so far he's singlehandedly dismantled and disrupted criminal operations like gun running, and he's virtually crippled illegal drug trade within Gotham. The Five Families now survive largely on prostitution, illegal gambling, underground fight leagues and bookmaking."

"The Five Families? I thought Gotham City had two major crime families."

"Actually, there are 16 crime families in Gotham city, all told. The big two are just the best known, but there's everyone from the Irish mafia to the Yakuza operating in that cesspit."

"16? Holy shit." he paused. "So why five families?"

Waller rolled her eyes. Sometimes he could be _so_ ignorant.

"Its a reference to the Godfather Max, don't tell me you haven't read the book."

"As a matter of fact I haven't."

"Do yourself a favor and buy a copy, today. As I was saying, this Batman is so effective he's succeeded in making rival groups unite against him for the first time in decades."

"So he's slowed down gun-running and drug peddling. Big deal."

"It may not sound like all that much, but he's just one guy, and he's done more in 5 years than their authorities have done in 50. Ineptitude and corruption of the Gotham City Police Department and judiciary aside, that is very impressive, any way you look at it. There's also the fact that he's evaded the FBI with ease. You and I know its not like the movies. One man can't dodge the entire Bureau just like that, but he has. He still is. And he's not got some underground criminal network to support him like all the other Most Wanted.  
Based on all that I'd say he's certainly smart enough to figure out what we're really doing here, that is if he ever even learns of our existence.  
Like him, anonymity is our greatest asset, and he lost his anonymity the day he broke into S.T.A.R Labs and stole that cannon. Then there's the financing behind all this. Being a lone ranger is hard, but its also expensive. He'd have to manufacture his own hardware and software because there's not a place in the world that would make his gear off the books, not without tattling. So he's definitely got the resources to make us bleed. Not enough to do any real damage, mind you, but its worth noting that he could dent our armor. He's a fugitive but he's always been a fugitive, and catching him will take more effort than its worth."

"The conclusion, Mr. Holmes?" Max asked impatiently.

"He's not a problem, for now at least. As you said, he is just one man, whereas we are an entire organisation with so much leeway it would make his head spin. Having said all that, we shouldn't underestimate him."

It was a very CIA answer. Yes, No and Maybe all rolled into one, but Max was used to that kind of talk, he had grown up with it all his life.

"So nothing to worry about?"

"For now." she stressed.

"Good. Now, are we really going to pretend you're not going to address the obvious?"

"You'll have to be more specific. With me it could be any number of things."

"I'm referring to the JLA and their poster girl, or should I say calendar girl?"

"Ah yes. The superheroes and their Xena Warrior Woman prototype. This might surprise you, but I'm not worried about her at all."

"Why on Earth not? With all that humanitarian stuff she's been doing since day one? I think she's a prime candidate for someone who would hate our guts."

"Afraid of her, Max?"

"Damn right I am, and you should be too. She swings that sword with a smile."

"Rest easy. Pretty face and royal bearing aside, she's a barbarian, an Amazon for God's sake. She hardly understands our culture. She probably doesn't even know what CIA stands for, you think she'll find out about us anytime soon?"

"I don't know Amanda. I'm hearing things about her. I hear she's much sharper than she appears. There's also the fact that her father is, well, Zeus."

"Jesus Christ Max, you don't really believe that BS do you? The daughter of Zeus? Come on. Its bad enough POTUS believes it."

"So you believe she's descended from a race of warrior women from Greek mythology, but you draw the line at her father being a God?"

"I'll believe her father is Zeus the day he comes down from Olympus and introduces himself in person. Until then, she's a metahuman from a warlike race of other metahumans. Whether they are actually Amazons or not remains to be seen. I don't trust everything people say, for obvious reasons. So we'll just have to wait and see. But I'm not worried about her. Or the League."

"Ah yes, the JLA."

"The name America is in the title, need I say more? Our people will make sure their people never know a thing. So no, we won't be having any problems with them either. However I do wonder how long before the international community starts questioning that title and their role in the world, and what it will all mean in the grand scheme of things. But I'll leave the politics and diplomacy to the suits."

"Some of their members are...interesting."

"I assume you're talking about Dinah Drake. Or is it Lance?"

"She goes by Black Canary now. A fitting name I have to say. I watched some of the battle footage. Seems she finally perfected her hypersonic scream."

"Yes, I saw that too. Lynch must have torn out his hair when he saw that. If I recall she was always his favorite."

"You know what it means right?"

"I do. But I thought-"

"Yes, we all did. But one of the strictest policies upon its formation was that the members of Team 7 should remain human. You know, that whole-"

"Humans are more important than hardware. Or metahumans in this case. Funny how that changed when the red capes showed up."

He glanced at Waller. "Don't look so surprised. I've used them enough times for less sensitive missions. Only an idiot doesn't know the Special Forces List of Truths when dealing with a man like Lynch. He was always going on about his glory days in the Army."

"I'm sorry, but I'm still impressed."

"Whatever. Have you considered he knew this all along? I mean he's the one that came and plucked her out of the Agency, barely a year after he had her transferred from the Bureau. I'm willing to bet he always knew...Poor girl, I don't think she ever knew it was all him behind her meteoric rise. She probably would have killed him for everything he did to her in the end."

"Give her credit where its due Max, she was an exceptional agent, she would have risen rapidly even without him, hell, she might even have got to your level."

"Her? A Black Bishop? Please. A White Knight, sure, because she always was too squeaky for the really dark side of things."

Waller detected a faint note of jealousy in his voice.

"Either way, she'd have gone far. I'm sure she knew about Lynch being responsible for all that."

"How do you figure?"

"Dinah was a lot of things, but she certainly wasn't stupid. As for killing him, I doubt it. They had a weird father daughter type of relationship and she had that code of ethics we all have in the beginning but we lose on the way. She'd never murder a man. She'd kill if she had to save a life, but nothing premeditated, nothing that wasn't totally necessary. Then again...That was before she learned about his freaky little past experimenting on unwilling test subjects to make supersoldiers."

"What about Trevor? Word is he's a liaison these days, for the supers. And he got bumped up to the O-6 pay scale, in an advisory capacity no less. Looks like he's moving up in the world."

"He deserves it. That man was probably the only truly good person out of all of us. He's harmless. He was just a pilot and transport guy, left the Business because the killing got to be too much for him. We have nothing to worry about from his quarter. He'll keep his mouth shut about the darker stuff we did back in the day and he'll do whatever he's told to do now like a good soldier."

"Are you sure?"

"I think he saved my life enough times for me to know the kind of person he is. He doesn't even know about the rest of Task Force X anyway. As far as he knows, the blackest it gets is Team 7, like Delta Force or SEAL Team 6 on steroids. Same goes for the other military members of the squad, the ones who are still alive anyway."

"What about our little Canary? Will she sing?"

"Certainly not. Like I said, Dinah's a clever girl, she's been inside the system. She even had the chance to join us, but she turned it down. Didn't like what we did, but she understood how it worked and why it was necessary. She knows better than to even try going against us."

"She certainly is a clever girl. Stays off the grid for all these years and when she pops up its the one place we can't touch her. Speaking of ex-Team 7 members-"

"Yes, you tried to get Slade Wilson, I know. Terrible move, 3 Knights with handguns and tasers. What were you thinking? You could have sent an entire legion of Knights and they still wouldn't have touched him."

"Those were my most promising agents. 3 of my best Knights, and he flattened them barehanded in less than a minute. Shame, he would have made an excellent Knight, he would certainly help me establish myself as the Black King."

Waller sighed. Maxwell Lord was very ambitious, but like all very ambitious men, he was extremely impatient. That was good, success is impatient, but it had to be tempered with maturity, and realism. You don't get things by wanting them really badly, no matter how capable you are. Knowing when and how to use your resources was far more important.  
And of course, you needed some luck.

It was the reason she was a Queen, and he was just a Bishop.

"If you want to get to those heights, you'll have to know your enemies Max."

"I do know him! Ex-Ranger, ex-Delta Force-"

"Its not enough to know his military service record. Jesus Christ, is that as deep as you dug?"

"Fill me in? Please?"

Waller sighed again.

 _Lazy bastard._

"If there's a soldier on this Earth that knows just how dark our operations are, its Slade Wilson. Don't you know he used to work for us?"

"He..He did?"

"Yes, for 20 long years as an independent contractor for the Special Activities Division."

"So he was an assassin?"

"More than just an assassin. He was our swiss army knife. We used him for so many different types of ops. He knows CIA, DIA, NSA, and FBI protocol and procedures, he knows all their tactics, he knows their MO. You want Slade Wilson, you'll have to do a hell of a lot better than three blindly loyal and competent agents; that's if you want to have even a remote chance at capturing him. Fortunately for you he still thinks its Lynch trying to get back his prized bull. Even more fortunate for you Lynch is a brick. If he knew you so much as thought of stealing his favorite action figure, he would have shot you in the face with that .45 Magnum he carries around."

Max was doing the math in his mind. It didn't fit. His military service record said he served for nearly 30 years. There was no way he was still walking after 3 decades of that high speed door kicking Action Man shit, let alone serving an additional 20 years in the SAD.

"But...How is that even possible? How could he have been in active duty for a total of almost 50 years?"

"Come on Max, don't be so naive. First of all, the military service records you've seen are heavily doctored, trust me."

"Still doesn't answer the question. He should be a _lot_ older than he looks."

"He is old. Very old."

"So why does he look like a well aged 50 year old?"

"Do you really think the supersoldier project started or ended with the Nazi's and their Eugenics program? Do you really think these metahumans are a new thing? They've always been around. Not quite so many, but they were there, always. They were just hiding. Its the evolution of the information sector and the advent of the internet that's bringing these freaks into the light. Take Captain Atom for example. I bet you didn't know before he became a walking nuclear reactor he was a fighter pilot-"

"Everyone knows that. He was one of the best actually. Could have gone the NASA way if he wanted."

"Let me finish. He was a fighter pilot, in the Vietnam war."

"You're shitting me."

"Yes Max, I'm a _real_ shitter."

Max leaned back in the plush seat and cupped his chin thoughtfully.

"But the declassified files said his first theatre of service was the Gulf War."

"That's true, he did serve in the Gulf War first, but as Captain Atom, not Captain Adams. Technically, the military isn't lying. He carried out a couple of air strikes for the Air Force when they were...indisposed. To this day, people believe it was F-117 jets that were responsible, and they think those scuds launched at Israel and Saudi Arabia just failed to inflict maximum casualties all by themselves because the Iraqi's fired them wrong."

Max was speechless.

"What, did you think we allowed the vultures to go there for nothing? You think we just wanted to show off our True Blue Marine Corps to the good old folks back home? After Vietnam, you really think we wanted another war with reporters at the frontlines? The Gulf War was about oil, pure and simple. But the best lie is a baldfaced one with a little bit of truth injected. Who better to tell that lie for us than the media itself? The Air Force conducted airstrikes, didn't they? What does it matter if it was a pilot in a highly advanced jet or a pilot with superpowers? Of course, he was just a rookie then, which is why he couldn't prevent the damage the enemy scud missiles caused."

"Wow... That was all him? You think you know a guy...You think you know your world history..."

"But you don't. Very few people that are alive know this information I've just given, Max, so it goes without saying that we never had this discussion, about Atom or Wilson."

"Of course. Still, its...its quite a shock. I think my whole world view has changed just now."

"Don't be so dramatic. But you shouldn't always trust the history books, or the files, especially the declassified military ones. Take it from a person that's done this sort of thing before. Ever read 1984?"

"Duh. Isn't that what inspired all of us Spooks?" he joked.

"Well, 'declassifying' service records is a bit like how they would report the news. Its more spreading disinformation than giving information."

"Huh. Vietnam...That explains the nuclear experiment. Nukes were still all the rage back then."

"Because they've ceased to be all the rage now?" she quipped.

"Everyone wanted to see how they could use them small scale without hurting American soldiers and friendlies. Eventually they just settled for daisy cutters, napalm bombs and Agent Orange. The DARPA files say he disappeared for some time after he volunteered for the experiment. So when did he resurface?"

"That, even I don't know, but like I said, take the information from declassified military files with a pillar of salt. The brass is tight lipped on the exact date of his reappearance. All I know is they kept him in house for a long time, running experiments on him. The only thing I'd trust from those DARPA files is the power ratings. We know how the US military loves to flex its muscles."

"Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it."

"God only knows what he went through to get to where he's at today, especially considering his power levels. I'll tell you from personal experience, powers granted by human experiments are not gained comfortably, at all. And you know how those grunt types are about getting results at all costs."

"You don't have to tell me twice. That's why I joined the CIA."

"I'm sure your dad being Director for nearly 20 years had nothing to do with it."

"Maybe it did a little bit." he smiled, a little embarrassed, a little irritated.

No matter how much he achieved, it seemed he could never quite shake his father's shadow, or the notion that he somehow helped him out along the way in his struggle to the top. Which was far from the truth. Max worked his way up the hard way to get to his position as a Black Bishop at Checkmate, even going as far as to change his last name to Lord. Unfortunately, as Waller had said, Checkmate was still part of the CIA, and so most people knew who he was by virtue of his father being a former Agency director.

"By the way, that little bird telling you all these secrets about our super friends-"

"Hey, I never reveal my sources."

"Come on. Who's the mole?"

"I'm legally bound not to tell you that and you know it."

"Oh c'mooooon Amanda. C'moooooon. Throw me a bone. Don't make me beg."

"Let's just say I like to play my cards close to the chest, and I always keep an ace up my sleeve."

Maxwell Lord smiled with slow understanding. Of course.

It was so obvious even he had overlooked it. It was the kind of master stroke that was the reason Amanda Waller was the head of operations, and the youngest ever Black Queen to boot. It was brilliant, even by her standards. No wonder she wasn't worried about them at all. With this, they would be safe forever.

"Understood. Now let's get something to eat. I'm hungry, and I hear tell the food over here is better than ours. I'd like to test that theory."

"Try the hazelnut pie for dessert, its amazing." Waller recommended as they grabbed their coats and left the room.

The image on the screen showed the dark skies and bright lights over Lahore as the drone pulled away from the city.

* * *

 **Alekile it looks like your wish has been granted, Deathstroke vs Batman on the big screen. And Young Justice season 3 is coming back too. I feel like someone at DC is actually reading this story AND my stupid authors notes too. Yeah right, just wishful thinking.**

 **I think this is the longest chapter I've written yet. A lot to take in but it had to be put together, splitting it would have killed the flow.  
**

 **Ceralyn, I'm gonna go ahead and assume your gender. I'm glad you like my portrayal of Diana. I often have doubts about my female characters being well written, so thanks, that means a lot.**


	41. Chapter 41

**Metropolis**

Lex Luthor looked outside the tinted window of his sleek black helicopter, studying the progress of repairs in the ruined city centre down below from the comfort of his plush leather seat. Heavy machinery and engineers from Lexcorp's subsidiary construction companies were already working to repair the extensive damage the area had sustained from what the press had dubbed 'The Battle of Metropolis.' It didn't cost too much for him to fix it all things considered, especially since all this attention amounted to free PR and advertising.

Now he was no longer just Lex Luthor, a rich and successful businessman, he was also Lex Luthor, the man who rebuilt Metropolis. How kind of him, they said, to spare his equipment and manpower at his own expense. He must love this city and its people so. You just don't get folks like that anymore. Decent folks that care about their people.

It was laughable.

Very early on in life he had learned that you didn't actually have to be a decent human being, it just mattered that you were seen to be one whenever the opportunity arose.

So why wasn't he feeling all warm and fuzzy inside? Why wasn't he feeling accomplished? The answer was simple. His ploy had failed. Even as the people loved him, they loved Superman still, if anything they loved him more. In their eyes, Superman and the JLA finished the fight. He was just the janitor cleaning up the mess from their party.

It was incredible, he thought.  
Superman could literally kill these people and they would still adore him.

Sure, people had been pissed off at the start, but now that the world was ever so slowly assimilating into this new sphere, it seemed the negative public perception of Superman was slowly beginning to wane. And not just him either, all the other 'supers', their approval ratings had gone way up judging by the news lately.

Lex was nothing if not a shrewd businessman. He could see the potential for a market, hell, an industry opening up where it had never even existed before. And that industry was superhero merchandising. Slap a logo on something and sell it, people will buy it, fast. Go ahead. Just Do It. Yes, he could see it now, the floodgates opening.

Soon there would be toys. Sports apparel. Cosmetics. Jewellery. Clothing. Vehicles. Hollywood was about to have a diarrhea of superhero themed films.

Truly, the possibilites were limitless.

Here were people cutting across every single group and demographic, every generation and class. They were popular with everyone whether you liked them or not.

Donna Karan could sell a fancy dress worn by Wonder Woman at some boring humanitarian event for a small fortune.  
Kellog could put a free toy Green Lantern ring in every 10 boxes of Cap'n Crunch as a prize.  
Nike could create Flash themed sports apparel, forsake the victory tick for the gold lightning bolt.  
Even the sewer rats they called paparazzi could probably get you a nice fat stack of cheddar for a superhero's nudies.

Only vices have that much reach.

Narcotics.  
Sex.  
Television.  
Religion.

Hero worship.

At least, when the hero in question was a false one.

Already people were starting to sell cheaply printed t-shirts of them in the street. Currently Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman shirts were the biggest earners. They were selling out faster than the vendors could produce them, which was the signal for the big businessmen to step in and yank the rug from under their feet. Hammer them down with superior production capabilities, countless factories, and higher quality materials. Those indie idiots wouldn't stand a chance.

So it wasn't all bad.  
He grinned.

What he found really fascinating, was that Wonder Woman never even had a logo to begin with, but some random artist made one up a based on the runes of the Themysciran Princess' banner. Then a princess of the pop variety wore the t-shirt in a music video that incidentally had nothing at all to do with it, and the rest is history.

As if that wasn't enough, the artist who designed it refused to patent the logo, saying it belonged to 'the world'. She refused to accept the credit for it, refused to take any payments from the booming sales of the t-shirt.

How can you not take the money, the rightfully earned credit? He wondered. It belongs to everyone? How the hell can a product belong to everyone when people fought decade long wars over the control of natural resources? How exactly is that kumbayah crap supposed to work in the real world?

 _That's the problem with my generation_ , he thought as he folded his hands in his lap. _Its like no one's hungry anymore._

 _Its always give give give._

Give your votes, give your liberties, give your opinions that nobody really gives a shit about anyway, give your blood sweat and tears, give your soul to the Man in the office, give your money to the beggar in the street and all the other impoverished people of the world. Give, but don't expect anything back. Never expect anything back, because that's what it means to be a Good Person. He sometimes looked at his peers and marveled at the vast differences between them.

Like the goddamn fanboys and fangirls on the internet.  
Legions of adoring sheeple who followed superhuman beings every move like everybody else followed their favorite celebrities. That could present problems for the plans he had in the future. The sheer amount of attention on these cartoon characters would prevent him from taking certain...more permanent measures. God, how such people disgusted him. At such moments the revulsion in his stomach made him wish he had a giant blowtorch so he could cleanse the earth of all these abominations...

He rubbed his temples. "I need a drink." he murmured to himself. In the cockpit of the chopper the pilot smiled wryly. He'd heard that expression before.

"Alright, I've seen enough. Take me to my office." Lex instructed.

"Yes sir." Came the response. Crisp, concise, professional.

The helicopter pushed forward and banked slowly to the left, heading for the Lexcorp tower. The tablet in his hand beeped softly to alert him that he had received an e-mail. The mere thought of the internet brought all his woes back to his attention.

It was hard to gauge who had the most rabid following across the board, but judging by internet activity once again the trio of Batman Superman and Wonder Woman was the hottest topic. Batman had now blown up online because he had been little more than a rumor, an urban legend at best. But ever since his appearance in public there was a lot of online traffic with searches regarding Batman.

There was also the fact that he stole the weapon that destroyed the android, and boy oh boy America loves her outlaws. Even the TV shows couldn't get enough of him. You could hardly watch a morning show where he or some other hero wasn't mentioned at least once.

The worst part was, the phenomenon was global. Everyone was obsessed with superheroes and metahumans in general. People were actually starting to glamorize and idolize them where they had feared and hated them before.

People used to hold protest marches against these freaks. Now...Now they were selling t-shirts, making fansites and painting murals.

Simply put, his great plan to reveal Superman for the dangerous, entitled and xenophobic alien he knew him to be had backfired as spectacularly as anything possibly could.  
Lex was a businessman first, and he knew all of this spelled doom for his future plans. Simply put, there was literally no way his little project could have face-planted any harder.

"We're approaching the LZ Mr Luthor." said the pilot. A few moments later he felt the gentle touch of the skids on the helipad.

Lex looked at his Patek Phillipe.

"You're twelve minutes early Corben."

"Sir?"

"My other pilot, he takes 12 minutes longer than you do, but you can fly faster, and steadier. Why didn't you tell me you could fly?"

Corben coughed.

"Its mostly helicopters, sir."

"What else can you operate?"

"Pretty much all types of ground vehicles and heavy machinery, except maybe tanks."

"Huh." Lex said.

He needed a chauffeur.  
Of course he already had one and he could always hire others if necessary, but he needed someone he could...trust?

He sensed the coming years were going to be...not quite the same as before. Things had changed now, he felt it in his bones. He needed someone reliable, someone competent, someone who understood the value of confidentiality. Corben seemed like that type of person. Clearly the man had skills.

"How long have you been in the Corps, Corben?"

"20 years sir."

"You don't look it. What are you, 35?"

"38. I joined once I graduated from high school, but my contract is due for renewal in a few months, if I want a promotion that is."

"Ah. Are you planning on signing it?"

He squirmed.

"Between you and I sir, I don't think so."

"Mind if I ask why?"

He would have rather much told him to fuck off and mind his own business like all the other nosy folks and wannabes that bombarded him with deeply personal questions about the military; but he knew the drill. When a guy this high up asks you keep talking.

"I guess I'm just tired of being a soldier. I don't believe in the fight anymore. The military has become too politically correct, we can never do anything without a bunch of lawyers and some civilian oversight authority deciding everything first. Even our mandate has changed. Its no longer about killing enemies of the state. I mean, 10, 15 years ago, we could justify some of the stuff we were doing. Barely. But today? All we do is..." He paused. He didn't want to talk about enriching corporations and protecting the business interests of the elite in the presence of Lex _fucking_ Luthor.

"We just aren't fighting for the things we used to anymore."

"You're saying we hold back too much? That we've lost our way?"

"Yeah...Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Lex was silent for a long time.

For a minute he wondered if he had offended Lex, or if he had seen through his bullshit and known exactly what he was going to say.

The only sound was the soft pat pat of the helicopter rotors. This bird was state of the art, he had never seen anything like it. The instruments were the same but infinitely more advanced, better than anything he had seen in his time. The rotors weren't as loud for example, yet they put out more energy than anything he had ever seen.

"What are you planning on doing with yourself? You're still a fairly young man after all."

"To be honest with you sir, I really don't know. I always figured if I got out and I was still fairly spry I could kick around the world in a PMC, like Blackwater or something."

"You mean work as a mercenary?"

"Er...yes, that's another term for it."

"How would you like to work for me Corben?"

"Sir?"

"I need someone reliable to act as my chauffeur and bodyguard."

"I'm not trained to-"

"You can fire a gun can't you? Isn't the Corps motto Every Man A Rifleman or something?"

"Yes. But-"

"And you can defend yourself, you can hold your own in a fight?"

"Well, yes, I studied combatives extensively over the years, but VIP protection is so much more than just snapping the wrist of an annoying photographer."

"You can do that?"

"Yes."

"Well then, you're hired."

"But-"

"Tell me something Corben, 20 years is a good respectable period of service, enough to get squared away with full benefits, right?"

"Yes."

"What is it worth, a couple years of hard drinking, drugs and hookers? A few bad rolls of the dice at the craps tables? Forgive my brusqueness, but I'm assuming someone who joined the military straight out of high school didn't have much in the way of forethought. You're almost 40 now, that's still a long way away from the rest home age. What are you going to do for money in 30 years time? Are you going to be like one of those homeless veterans that everyone pretends doesn't exist? Begging for change on street corners as everyone walks past with their soy fucking latte's?"

Corben was stony faced. Unfortunately, Lex was dead right. He really hadn't considered anything after the military. He honestly hadn't expected to live this long.

"A man of your background would earn what? 20 grand a month minimum working for a private military corporation?"

Corben nodded.

"I'll pay you double that. Plus generous bonuses, with full medical and dental cover. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great sir." Corben stuttered.

"Excellent." Lex said. He pressed switch on the panel beside him and the passenger door slid open with a soft hiss. "Come pick me up in an hour or so."

"Okay...What should I do in the meantime?"

"Whatever the hell you want. Just don't scratch my bird. This is a prototype, not even rolled off the production line yet." he hopped out and watched as the chopper pulled away.

 _Well that was easy,_ he thought as he walked the short distance to his office. He paused at the glass doors, allowing himself a moment for composure, then he stepped into the room. It was fairly cool. He liked his AC running all the time. Lex walked slowly over to the drinks cabinet and selected a decanter of Chivas Regal blended scotch whisky. He poured a generous portion and downed it, then he refilled the glass.

"Well Ivo? Anything to say for yourself?" Lex said. He turned to face him, scotch in hand. His facial expression was completely blank, which meant he was absolutely livid. Across the room in the leather couch was Professor Ivo, who was reading the Daily Planet.

Ivo folded the newspaper, concealing the headline emblazoned across the front page.

 **MAN OF STEEL JOINS JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA.**

 **PRESIDENT FETES MEMBERS AT CAPITOL HILL**

There was a photo of Superman and all the other heroes-except Batman-standing on a podium, wearing medals.

Superman was shaking hands with the President and he had a nervous smile on his face, no doubt hoping he didn't crush the statesman's hand to dust. Ivo thought it was a bit soon to be bringing out the medals, speeches and fanfare, save that for the apocalyptic or global scale events, but eh...

Now the article, that was interesting. Peppered with lots of photos, lots of commentary, almost all of it was about Superman. Clearly this-he flicked back to the front page-this Lois Lane had a raging hard on for Superman.

The photos were brilliant, that he had to admit. A smattering of shots from the battle itself, and the rest from the ceremony. The photographer had that rare skill of capturing not just images but life moments in his shots. A picture truly was worth a thousand words. You couldn't miss the look of trust and gratitude on the President's face as he looked up at Superman after presenting him with a medal. That was going to be a problem for the next few years no matter who took over when he eventually left office.

"It's not that bad. Who even reads newspapers anymore? Print media is dead."

"Is that all you have to say?" Lex asked calmly, yet icily. Ivo shuffled in the seat.

"Well, its hardly a surprise Lex. We knew they would have to say something."

"I KNOW!-" Lex bellowed, startling Ivo. He calmed himself.

"I know its not a surprise. Lois Lane has had a crush on Superman since the day he showed up and the Daily Planet is a liberal ass rag that's well known for romanticizing him. The article is to be expected. My question is, why did _it_ fail?"

"That's easy to answer. We didn't anticipate the government itself forming a team of superheroes, we certainly didn't anticipate that they would be friendly towards Superman. And even with all of Amazo's power, the combined abilities and ingenuity of all the heroes was simply too much for him."

"'We?'"

"Be fair Lex, you had a large part to play in this too."

"I'm Lex now, am I? We're best friends now, are we?"

"What we are is partners in crime."

"I'm not sure I like your tone Ivo."

Ivo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Look Lex, I'm sure its hard for a man who has achieved as much as you have single-handedly to look past your incredible ego and recognize when people are just stating facts, but do try. It can be quite insightful."

Lex was silent for a moment.

"Nobody died." he said finally.

Ivo rolled his eyes. That was as good as he was going to get.

"Yes, no lives were lost, fortunately. But it could have gone a lot worse. It still could get a lot worse. What you should be worrying about is why S.T.A.R Labs and the media haven't begun asking the real hard hitting questions about the whole debacle. Like where the android came from, who would be capable of building it, financing research and development behind it. Its not exactly illegal, but the lack of a specific law addressing all that we've done doesn't constitute legitimacy of any sort."

"S.T.A.R is a military research and development facility before all else, they know which side their bread is buttered. Nobody's going to dig too deep, not publicly at any rate, and if they do the higher ups in the organisation will stonewall their efforts. So don't worry about them. As for those vultures in the press...you are right on that. I know one or two reporters in this city that will keep digging until they come out in China, but I'm Lex Luthor. Metropolis is my turf, they'll never pin anything on me."

"Never say never." Ivo warned.

"Worry about yourself. You promised me this would be a success-"

"I promised nothing. Not once, not once during this entire project from start to finish, have I made any guarantees whatsoever regarding Amazo's chances of victory."

Lex frowned. He kept calling it Amazo, he, him. Rather than what it was, a killing machine, an android.

It was like he was attached to it in some strange way.  
Was that possible, to feel something for what was essentially cold machine life, sentient or not?

"Success is assumed, when dealing with a man like me Ivo. You'd best remember that if we're to have any dealings in the future."

"Well, as I had said at the time, the battle was not a complete failure. Amazo did learn crucial information about the metahumans he faced, and I believe he traced potential weaknesses." Ivo said somewhat defensively of his creation.

"Ivo, the damn thing was toasted and butchered like a Christmas ham by the time those freaks were done with it. Whatever it learned is lost now."

"Actually, no. Whatever information it absorbed was sent directly to our remote servers. We have all that knowledge stored away safely right in the databanks. It's fascinating really. Amazo had the power levels and skill sets classified beautifully." Ivo replied.

 _There's that weird vibe again, like a parent taking pride in their child's achievements._

"You're telling me this now?"

"Well, in all fairness, you haven't let me do much speaking on the matter these past few weeks."

"Go on."

"...er...the greater bulk of the data is still being collated but...I can give a short version of what we know thus far. For example, it would seem Captain Atom and Superman are almost equal in terms of physical ability, I think that will serve us well in the future."

"Almost?" Lex said with interest.

"Yes. Currently Atom is more powerful."

"'Currently'?"

Ivo was getting irritated by the echoing.

"Theoretically, according to the scans by Amazo, it would seem Superman gains his power from solar radiation. How much of his abilities are natural to all Kryptonians and how much of it has to do with long term exposure to our sun is as yet unknown, Amazo is incapable of detecting such information. We know nothing about Kryptonian physiology either, so it is impossible to know when he reaches his physical peak. If his abilities in contrast to those of a normal human are anything to go by, he may reach his prime several decades from now, maybe even a century. Whereas Captain Atom, as we all know from the information in the public domain, gains his power from the nuclear energy he stores within him. We also know that he can absorb, store and manipulate different kinds of energy, and we now know it is his energy based abilities that he harnesses to enhance his physical abilities-"

Lex got the implication almost immediately.

"They both have the potential to get more powerful with time." he said with real horror.

"Theoretically, yes. However there is a subtle, yet very important difference. Captain Atom can only contain so much energy at any one time. Because his powers are not biological, therefore his cells, assuming he still has any, cannot adapt to suit the body's new needs. The recently declassified DARPA files estimate his power level to be no less than that of 10 nuclear bombs, so its safe to say he can hold quite a bit of energy. In Superman's case, he would only get more and more powerful as his body was exposed to more and more solar radiation. It explains why he is now fully capable of flight when he was once only capable of leaping great heights, and why he appears to display a greater range of abilities and level of strength as time passes. Assuming he is physically in his early 20's to mid 30's, by human standards of course, we can safely assume he will begin approaching his prime somewhere in his 40's or 50's, but when he will arrive at his peak is totally unknowable. We haven't even gotten to his greatly deccelerated aging due to relying on solar radiation to fuel his metabolism. I must stress though, until we conduct far more extensive research, this is all speculation at best."

 _Christ,_ Lex thought. _This is the short version?_ Clearly, though Ivo was a nano-tech specialist, he was no slouch in the other aspects of science either. He obviously knew a thing or two about genetics as well.

"What of the others?"

"Here is where it gets really interesting. It would seem that though Wonder Woman displayed a slightly lower level of strength, speed and durability as the other two, Amazo actually rated her as the greatest threat there."

"It is logical. She was the best fighter there, her attacks were the most relentless. If I recall, she's the one that kept sensing when to change the strategy."

"Yes and no. Hawkman also had significantly more martial prowess than all the others save the Princess herself, statistically he attacked as much and as hard as she did, but he was still rated as a secondary threat alongside Green Lantern. This means that there could be other reasons for the higher threat rating. It could be that Amazo sensed she was the leader. Or it could be some hidden power she possesses that we do not yet know."

"What makes you say that?"

"Lex, she is a demigod. You only have to read mythology to know there is always more to them than meets the eye. She may have some as yet unknown deeper abilities."

Lex scoffed.

"Demigod is a relative term, especially in the world we live in today. There are those that would say Superman is a demigod, though his parentage is not divine."

Ivo wisely kept his mouth shut. It was better not to argue about that. Not with Lex.

"What shall we do now?"

"'We' aren't going to do anything. You're going to disappear for a couple of months. Leave Metropolis. Leave America. Go on holiday. Go on a fucking safari, I don't care. Just vanish. I'll contact you when the time is right."

* * *

 **London, England,  
Paddington  
**

The phone trilled loudly, interrupting John's usual session of Netflix and cereal.

"Bugger me." he cursed as he spilled the bowl of Coco Pops all across his lap. He had foolishly tried to reach for the phone while balancing the bowl in his lap and keeping his eyes glued to the screen, where a violent murder-by-alien was taking place.

 _Fail._

"Yeah? What do you mean who am I? Who the fuck are you? Oh...Alright...Alright...Calm down mate...Steady on...Yes, yes I'll get her right away."

He jumped up from the couch and half jogged down the hallway, heading for Zatanna's room. Whoever was on the other end really needed her. He sounded...distressed. But he also sounded important. His accent spoke of what people here called good breeding.  
He paused at the door.  
By now John had learned that when you live with a woman you aren't intimate with, you knock first and stand well back lest you walk in on her waxing her pubes or something, which they never seemed to do in the bathroom.

Not the women he knew anyway. Like Vampirella, that freak.

He knocked. Nothing.

He tried again, still nothing.

"Hey." No response.

"Hey, Z!" Still no response.

"HEY! Call for you Zatanna!" he shouted. Still nothing.

"I swear to God if she's snuck out again with my Fiat..."

He opened the door, slowly at first, then he threw it wide open. No wonder she didn't respond, he could hear the music playing in her headphones from here. Really it was a miracle she wasn't deaf yet.

"ZATANNA!"

She still couldn't hear him, rolling around on the bed as she played the mother of all air guitar solos. He yanked the headphones out of the stereo jack, and the music blared out loud, rattling the floors and windows of the small studio apartment. Rock music. Of course. What else?

At first he thought it was Elvis, but when the words came in he recognized the bubble gum doo-wop harmonising of the band almost immediately. It was a Beach Boys song, Judy. He _hated_ the Beach Boys. Their music always took him back to his dark summer days at the church orphanage run by those sadistic nuns.

"John! What the fuck? That was the best part!" Zatanna hissed as the guitar solo wound down and the singers started crooning Judy's name softly.

"Sorry to interrupt your jam session, but there's someone on the phone for you."

"What? No one has this number."

John shrugged.

"For what its worth, its a British bloke, sounds like a bit of an upper class cunt."

"What have I told you about using that word?"

"Whatever, mummy dearest. He says his name is Alfred. Says he needs to speak to you urgently. He asked for you by name, so you must have given him your number at some point."

The wheels turned in Zatanna's head.

Of course.  
Bruce must be in trouble.

She snatched the phone from him.

"Hello?" she said. John was about to leave, but the expression on Zatanna's face forced him to stay. She looked as distressed as he had ever seen her. She didn't say another word for the duration of the call, which was fairly short.

"Is everything alright?" he asked softly when she finally put the phone down.

"Ummm...Yeah. Everything is... Everything is fine."

"You're sure?"

She bit her lip.

"Actually, no. I'm gonna need your help. We have to teleport out of here right now."

"Zee, you know how I feel about shuttling through the dimensions in that manner."

"I know. I know. But this is an emergency."

He looked at her once more. Her eyes were pleading.

"Alright. But we have to-" he never got to finish his sentence, because they disappeared with a bright flash and a squeaky pop.

* * *

 **A/N: Listen to Judy. Its a really nice song, short and sweet guitar solo, very 1960's feel to it.  
Read and review.  
**


	42. Chapter 42

Alfred sat quietly beside Bruce, monitoring his vitals as he waited for Zatanna to arrive. He hoped she would get here soon. He had managed to stabilize Bruce and he was the toughest man he knew, but even he couldn't last forever in his state. He had done what little he could to staunch the bleeding and suture the cuts, and he had hooked Bruce up to an IV to try and counteract some of the massive loss of vital fluids, but it wasn't nearly enough.

Now there was nothing to do but hope and pray. He hoped Zatanna would come soon, because Bruce's breathing was too shallow for his liking. As if the world itself heard his thoughts, there was a loud crash from upstairs, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. Instantly Alfred picked up the Winchester rifle beside him and ascended the steps to the upper levels of the manor as quickly and noiselessly as he could.

As Alfred got closer and closer to the heart of the house he heard muffled voices, like people arguing, except one was trying to placate another. He took a deep breath, slapped the rifle stock to his shoulder and rounded the corner.

"Identify yourselves." he said sharply, then he cocked the shotgun. All he could see from this angle was a thin lanky man in a dress shirt and pants, with what looked like chocolate milk stains on his groin. He had short but shaggy blond hair and several days worth of stubble on his jaw. The tan Oxfords on his feet could have done with a bit of polishing. He raised his hands the minute he saw the gun.

"Whoah Alfred, its me." said a familiar voice.

"Miss Zatanna?"

She emerged from behind the blond man. "Hi. Sorry about the chandelier. The shock-wave was stronger than I thought it would be."

He didn't lower the rifle.

"Who is this?" he asked instead, motioning to Constantine with his head.

"This is my friend John Constantine. Don't worry, he's here to help."

John didn't dare move. The old man looked like he knew how to handle the weapon. Not that you'd have to be Wild Bill at ten paces with a shotgun.

Alfred didn't like it, but it wasn't like he had a choice. He motioned for Zatanna to follow, finally lowering the rifle.

"Not you." he said sharply when John tagged along. "You wait here. And don't touch anything."

"Er...Okay." John said. Zatanna disappeared down a hallway with the elderly man, and he sat down in a leather armchair to wait. He took the time to study his surroundings.

It looked like he had been dead on about the caller being an upper class person. This house was huge, bigger than any he had ever been in, more like a museum than a residence. The furniture was old, perhaps even antique, but very well maintained. Knobs were polished, wooden surfaces gleamed, and anything with metal or glass shone like stars.  
There was quite a lot of art, including one hideous piece that he identified as a Jackson Pollock painting right away.

He had always wondered what the obsession was with rich people and art that looked like utter crap.

The piece he was looking at now resembled a child's doodles on MS Paint.  
Maybe it was about the monumental financial value of the paintings that was of interest. Even a layman like him knew that some of these highbrow paintings cost upwards of a hundred million dollars; and that was on the very low side. That must be it, the elitism, because he sure as shit couldn't see any artistic genius on the canvas. He'd vomited better works of art into his toilet bowl after a night of pubcrawling ending with a supper of chicken vindaloo.  
In fact, wasn't Pollock a drunk?

It didn't really matter, because he was an _artistic_ drunk.

 _Still, taste in art aside, whoever this bloke is, he's one rich bastard_ , John thought to himself.

He could only imagine what the other works of art were worth, what everything else in this big bloody house was worth.

This was the kind of opulence people sold their souls for.

He grinned. This would be the greatest house-call of his life, and the fattest paycheck too. Maybe he could retire early.

* * *

"What happened to him?" Zatanna asked, staring at the comatose Bruce in horror.

"I think he was attacked. The weapon used was a sword, a very sharp sword."

"Who could do this to him?"

"I really don't know. Master Bruce isn't the most forthcoming when it comes to his...extracurricular activites." he paused, trying to hide his fear and failing miserably. "Please Miss Zatanna, can you save him?"

She looked into Alfred's watery eyes. He looked exhausted, like he had aged ten years since she had last seen him. She wanted to say 'I'll try', but she knew it wouldn't be adequate. He was clearly on the verge of breaking down.

"Yes." she said with finality. His expression eased somewhat. "But I'll need John's help."

Alfred frowned.

"I'm not sure I trust that fellow." he said. "He seems like a...forgive me for saying this, but he seems like..."

"Like what?"

"A rascal. A hooligan. A ne'er do well. The type of chap that would steal your spoons when you weren't looking. And he reeks of tobacco."

"Look, he's not the sharpest looking guy you'll find, but he's a reliable guy, I promise. I didn't bring him here just to gawk at stuff."

Alfred sighed.

"Very well, but only because you vouched for him. But what about later? You know how Master Bruce feels about strangers in his home, and...in the basement."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

He looked doubtful, but relented. "Alright. I suppose I shall leave you to it. If you should need anything-"

"I don't think we will. Get some rest Alfred. You look like you need it."

"Rest? Who can rest at a time like this?" he muttered to himself, climbing the stairs.

* * *

Bruce's mind was elsewhere, in a pool of memories long buried but never truly forgotten.

 _He is running through a field, chasing a butterfly. He is 6 years old._

 _The butterfly fascinates him, its colors are so pretty, and the sun seems to shimmer on the dew of its wings like irises.  
His spirit is all Martha. Ever inquisitive, and stubborn to a fault. But he's the spitting image of his father. _

_He'll break a lot of hearts when he grows up, the ladies say._

 _Bruce runs after the butterfly as best he can on his stubbly toddler's feet, not yet accustomed to the slight rolls and bumps of the fields in Wayne Manor._

 _His parents are just a few metres away, playing badminton with a net hastily erected by Alfred at his own insistence. It is summer, and it is hot._  
 _There is a pitcher of lemonade on a small table beside them, and every few minutes Thomas pauses to pour himself and Martha a glass. He was born into obscene privilege, but Thomas doesn't like having a butler hovering over him like some brainless automaton.  
Though he's had servants surrounding him all his life, their presence makes him oddly uncomfortable. His friends constantly chide him for his humility, but it is secretly a quality they all admire and envy with equal measure._

 _Alfred himself is in the house as usual, putting the finishing touches on the strawberry cheesecake that he will serve as dessert after their lunch of lamb tagines and stuffed bell peppers._

 _Martha stops to have a drink of lemonade to quench her thirst. Normally they'd be swimming in the pool when it got this hot, but the tiles are being redone. The old ones have started to crack and show the gunky brown bottom, filled with moss._

"Lunch really should be ready about now. I'm hungry." _Martha said._

"Yeah? Sure its not the fact that I'm kicking your-" _she shot him a reprimanding look._

"Butt. I was going to say butt." _he grinned.  
_

 _She pointed the racket at him threateningly, then she motioned to where Bruce was seated._

"We don't want our son learning bad manners, do we?"

 _And that's when she noticed their son wasn't there anymore._

"Brucie? Bruuucie honey, where aaaare youuuuu?" _she called in a sing song voice._

 _No reply._

 _She calls again, still no reply._

"He probably just went off exploring again Mart. You know how he is."

"Bruuuce? Brucie honey, come back. If you're playing hide and seek, you've won! You can come out now! Its almost time to have lunch!" _her voice took on a more urgent tone._

 _Silence._

"How does he always sneak off so quietly?" _Thomas mused aloud._

"I told you to stop watching all those action hero shows with him Tom! He goes around half the time thinking he's Zorro or The Phantom on some great adventure."

"Hey, relax hon. We'll find him. I know this place like the back of my own hand."

 _But there had been a storm a few months back, one of the biggest in Gotham's history in fact, and it had washed away much of the top soil in the expansive compound. What Thomas and Martha didn't know was that an ancient, collapsed tunnel network had been uncovered by the floodwaters. It wasn't exactly a gaping hole, but it was more than large enough for a six year old boy to fall into, which is exactly what had happened to Bruce._

 _The moment he fell in he had been deathly silent._

 _He was paralysed, truly paralysed with fear. Save for the sliver of light peeking in through the narrow crevice, it was so dark he couldn't see past his own nose, and he could hear the trickling and constant drip drip drip of an underground stream. It smelled dank, and he could hear soft rustling sounds, accompanied by strange chattering noises._

 _He held his breath instinctively. Something was coming._

 _When the first bat flew at him he screamed in abject terror. It was the ugliest and most horrifying thing he had ever seen in his all too short existence. All fangs and evil black eyes, its shrill shrieking filling his ears. He screamed for what felt like ages as more and more flew around him, swatting his face and hands with their coarse leathery wings. Eventually he stopped; not because he had conquered his fear. His throat simply hurt too much. Luckily his desperate cries had attracted his parents._

"Bruce! Bruce! Oh my god! Thomas! Thomas! He's fallen down a hole!"

"I am pretty sure that wasn't there before...Alfred! Get a shovel, some rope, and the biggest plank of wood you can find!" _He called out with the air of a man used to giving out orders and having them followed. Had he been anything but a neurosurgeon he doubted he would have been able to keep his wits about him so masterfully in the face of such a crisis. It must have been fate. Perhaps what everyone said about trouble finding him was right.  
_

 _Martha was beside herself with fear, but she kept up a strong front for the sake of her baby boy. Still, the doctor in Thomas recognized the signs of shock she was displaying immediately, and the husband in him could see beyond that, see the terror in her eyes. He wondered if she could see through his front too. When Alfred arrived with the items, he knew he had to work quickly._

 _Between the digging, constantly checking to make sure he didn't accidentally bury Bruce, and wedging the plank inside the tiny slit to widen it and get Bruce to safety, it took 3 hours to extricate him, and that was with Thomas working non-stop, not even letting Alfred relieve him for a second. His shirt clung to his sweating body, and his face and arms were smudged with mud and dirt. The only positive was that all the digging and light drove the bats away.  
_

 _Through all that time Bruce had been silent. His infant mind with no grasp of time had no way of knowing how long he had been trapped in there. He only knew that it was bright when he fell in, and now it was dark.  
_

 _When Thomas pulled him out of the hole Martha couldn't hold herself together anymore. She hugged Bruce so tight his ribs hurt, and she didn't even care for the dirt that stained her four hundred dollar summer dress._

"Don't ever do that again! Don't ever leave me! Do you hear me Bruce?" _she had said._

 _He nodded dumbly, still trying to process the whole situation._

 _She burst into tears, but he had been too young to understand that sometimes people cried because of joy. He desperately tried to wipe her eyes with his grimy hands, smudging mud on her face.  
_

"I'm sorry mama. Don't cry. I'll never ever leave you again. I promise." _Bruce said earnestly._

 _She laughed then, and nuzzled her face against his.  
_

"I know baby, I know you won't. And I'll never leave you."

 _Thomas stood off to the side, catching his breath. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. Out of old habit he reached into his breast pocket for a cigarette, and then remembered Martha made him quit months ago. He blinked rapidly to stop the tears of relief he could feel coming on. Thomas had always been a stoic man, but having a child changed him so much. He cried so easily now, at the tiniest of things. He handed the shovel, rope and plank to Alfred, with instructions that the hole should be cemented over the very next day by the workmen once they finished tiling the bottom of the pool._

"Come on you little troublemaker, let's get you cleaned up." _Thomas said, taking one of his hands as Martha took the other. They walked back to the house as the sun set, Alfred walking behind them with the tools._

At that moment Bruce knew that he was loved, because if anything ever happened to him, his parents would always be there to save him.

* * *

"What the bleeding hell is this, a gimp?" John asked, looking down at Bruce. His face was still concealed by the cowl, and whatever parts of his body that weren't injured were still in costume too.

"John, please, not now."

"Not now? I don't even...I mean, what is this place? Who has a computer this big? And...Are these more gimp costumes? Is this some sort of underground BDSM club? Why do rich people have to be so goddamned eccentric? Does the money make them kooky or what? And I thought Howard Stern was weird."

"I think you mean Howard Hughes. If you could just focus on the matter at hand here, that would be great."

He stooped closer to inspect the injuries. "My Lord, this man's been cut up, multiple times. He's not been attacked by a demon, has he?"

"No."

"The house isn't haunted?"

"No."

"Nothing supernatural at all?"

"No."

"Well then I can't help." he said, straightening up.

"You said you would."

"Yes, because I assumed we'd be dealing with the paranormal, not...this." he motioned at all of Bruce. "Fuck. Take him to a hospital. This man needs a team of surgeons, not a demonologist and a stage magician."

"John, pull yourself together and stop being a little bitch. We can do this."

He sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Alright...I'm assuming we want to heal him, correct?"

"Yes. But these are complex injuries, many of them internal. Its not like I can just say 'heal' over and over again."

He puffed out his cheeks, wracking his brains for an answer.

"It helps to make it a sort of incantation."

"Like what?"

"You know...Like the witches in MacBeth. Double double, toil and trouble... Chant it like a mantra. Like the old spells. But you've got to keep it short. It has to be easy to recite, and most importantly easy to focus on. Remember-"

"The words are just words, the magic is inside me. I know, dad used to say that all the time." she paused. "I'm not too good at poetry."

"Neither am I."

"You're British."

"So what? That makes me W.B Yeats all of a sudden?"

"Yeats was Irish."

"You just keep getting things right today."

"John, this is serious. I'm nervous too but I'm trying to be composed here."

He sighed again.

 _Alright you crackpot, you've cheated the Devil himself. How hard can this be?_

"How about this?

Skin and bone, muscle and sinew  
Form yourself as if anew  
Wounds knot, bones mend  
To this pain, I bring an end.

Good enough?"

"That's it? That's...That's pretty basic. Why are you even here? I could have thought of this myself."

"Its not like I had a flipping choice. I was enjoying my cereal and sci-fi very much, thank you."

"Fair enough."

"Anyway, basic is good. Basic can't be forgotten. But can you say it backwards?"

"I can sing entire albums backwards. What's a four stanza poem?"

"Alright." he said, rolling up his sleeves and taking off his wristwatch. It always went on the fritz whenever serious magic was involved, and this was a Breitling, not just any old thing pawned from a shifty-eyed skag head inside the local.

"Let's get to it then."

Zatanna slowly started the incantation. It was a little unnerving to hear her speak in that manner, but he was growing accustomed to it. He didn't need to chant anything, experienced enough to cast spells using his will alone.  
Slowly the air around Bruce started to shimmer, then hum. A bright white light surrounded his body as the spell started to take effect. She could already feel the drain on her body, a slow trickle like her life essence was slowly leaking out of her. Across from her, John's bright yellow energy signature backed up her own silvery signature. She had a lot more power than him; the result of several centuries worth of (near) pure mystic blood flowing through her veins.

In all honesty, Zatanna didn't really need John's help. He was a bit of a jobber when it came down to it, whereas she was a Homo-Magi. She'd seen him practice magic several times over the years. His spells were just quick-fix sort of things. He was more into divination, and simple incantations that would protect him from hazards of the job, like 'getting his soul ripped out through his arsehole', as he once eloquently said.  
True sorcery though, always was and always would be the preserve of her race. Besides, she had more than enough creativity and ability to handle this sort of thing.  
So what the hell did she need him for? Inspiration? He wasn't exactly the poster boy for that.

Perhaps it was the personal sentiment involved, because she had never really been the damsel in distress type who needed help for every little crisis in her life. Perhaps knowing Bruce made her over-cautious, maybe even scared.  
Had the roles been reversed and it was her lying on that gurney, she'd like to believe Bruce would be scared too.

 _Ha, not fucking likely Zatanna._

John could feel the neural 'load' getting lighter. In a few more minutes she'd be doing all the work and he'd just be performing a fancy light-show.

He wondered if she knew just how powerful she really was.

* * *

 **A/N: Once again, I haven't abandoned this story. I've been battling some personal issues that have affected my ability to write and publish as frequently as I'd have desired. This is all I've got for now, but the next update will be more substantial because I'd like to wrap this up soon and move onto the next instalment; then I can crack open the Easter eggs I've laid.  
How about that Wonder Woman film though? Exceeded my expectations by far. I just wish the Germans spoke more German, but everything else was perfect. It also seemed to show at the end that Diana can fly(?) Justice League looks promising as well, perhaps Aquaman will be the dark horse.**


	43. Chapter 43

**Metropolis, Daily Planet Offices  
10.57PM**

Clark, Lois and Jimmy sat in Perry's office as he read through an article they had just finished collaborating on. This was eighteen months of pounding pavement coming to fruition. Lois did the research, Jimmy sourced all the photos and Clark was the writer. He suppressed the urge to sneeze mightily-doing so wold likely tear the fresh paint right off the walls.

The offices of the Daily Planet were still undergoing refurbishment after the fight with the android that had ravaged parts of the city centre, but the process was nearly complete and the place was really starting to come together. Clearly they'd gotten a fat purse because the executives had splurged on quality furniture, new computers and printing presses; even wall art and exotic plants and new kitchen appliances.

The downside was that the air smelled perpetually like wet paint and turpentine, which was murder on Clark's hypersensitive nose. It itched terribly. He really hoped he didn't sneeze. That might strip the clothes right off of Perry.

"Well? What do you think?" he asked, somewhat nervous as the editor took off his reading glasses.

"This is very good. Solid research, compelling photos, good citations, everything completely factual and verifiable. Beautifully worded too. I had no idea you had such skills, Kent."

"But?" Jimmy asked, knowing criticism was surely coming if he had began with praise.

"Its a scathing article." Perry said, lowering the laptop screen. "Some might even say defamatory." he crossed his hands over the tabletop. It was the shiny, heavy type with a polished surface.

"Well, its a critique on the local law enforcement's typically slow response to the growing organized criminal organisations mushrooming in the city. Its not supposed to pull any punches." Lois said, tap-tapping her cigarette into the ashtray. She was the only employee that could smoke in here, even though Perry loved his cigars.

"I get that Lois...But do you know who Bruno Mannheim is? He's not Lex Luthor, okay? He's not going to shake your hand with a smirk and buy you drinks at the next benefit gala because he admires you for having the courage to write about his shady business practices. If the things you've written about this...this..."

"Intergang."

"Yes, if the things you've written about this Intergang are true, then there are going to be some very upset people in this city tomorrow morning. Make no mistake, the Mannheim family aren't your average goombahs eking out a living for themselves in this city. Back when Boss Moxie was running the show, they were the sole distributors of narcotics, guns and prostitutes in the Southside. That's when everyone started calling it the Suicide Slums. Every casino, nightclub and sleazy little crack-den paid their dues to him just to keep from their premises getting burned down. Moxie had political connections across three different states, and when they finally locked him up on Stryker's Island he left all that to his boy Bruno. That's what you're dealing with here, a real life Scarface."

"Do you remember when you hired me? Do you remember what you said to me, in this very room, on my very first day, when I asked you what I should write about?"

"Lois-"

" _There's only one story, Lane. Metropolis. She's the story._ Those were your exact words, right? _"_

"Right, but that's not what I'm asking here. Do you know what you're getting yourself into?"

"I always know exactly what I'm getting myself into, Perry, and I think you know that too."

"Your funeral." he paused. "Kent, did you really have to call the District Attorney a..." he put the glasses back on. "A ' _vapid, air-headed, narrow-minded bureaucrat whose legal interests go no further than the brown envelopes deposited at her office_.'?"

"Its no secret that the DA's office has been grappling with increasingly larger cases of corruption over the past decade." Clark replied matter-of-factly. "We did a piece just last year on their Investigation Department, about them receiving bribes so they could ignore cases of staff abuse at factories outside the city limits."

"It's a little harshly worded, don't you think? You could have found a nicer way to say it."

"I don't believe in sugarcoating my opinions."

"We're journalists, son. We're not supposed to have opinions, we're supposed to sell the news."

"With respect sir, I have to disagree."

Perry raised an eyebrow, which was never a good sign. Clark had a feeling he'd stepped right in it, but if it was a question of morals or job security, he'd rather be unemployed than traitorous of his ideals. Maybe it was the turpentine fumes or something, but he was feeling ballsy tonight.

"Reporters sell the news. They do their research, state the 'facts', pick the goriest visuals and leave it for the audience to decide what to do with that information. Journalists have a higher responsibility. We don't just tell the truth, we tell stories by human beings, for human beings. We chronicle important life events. We must have opinions, strong opinions. We must criticize what we know is wrong and stand by what we know is right, even if the great majority disagree; especially when the great majority disagree. I refuse to suppress that fundamental quality required of all those who practice in this profession. I refuse to sacrifice my beliefs and opinions at the altar of political correctness, just to save some thin-skinned people the minor discomfort of hearing or seeing something that they dislike. This is the Daily Planet, not the Huffington Post."

Lois smiled quietly from her corner of the room. Jimmy nodded with approval.

"That's your final stand? You won't change it at all?" Perry asked.

"No, sir. I'd rather get that one person that reads and appreciates my content than target the mindless flock of sheep who consume whatever information they're fed without questioning its authenticity, simply because everyone else is doing the same."

"Huh." Perry leaned back in the swivel chair, rocking from side to side. "Alright, we'll run it."

"Really?" Clark asked. He'd expected a lot more opposition. In fact, he'd expected a flat-out 'No' and an order to focus on the NFL.

"Really." Perry said. "Now get the hell out of my office. My wife will hang my balls from her rear-view mirror if I'm late for our anniversary dinner."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." Clark stuttered, rising from his seat.

"And Kent."

"Yes sir?"

"Stop calling me sir. I'm an editor, not your father-in-law."

"Yes s-..er, Perry."

* * *

"Damn Clark, I do believe you just earned Perry's respect." Jimmy said as the trio walked down the hallway moments later.

"Did I really?"

"Yup. When Perry let's you call him Perry, it means he considers you a colleague. You know you really roasted a lot of people in that article."

"It wasn't that bad."

"You called the Metropolis PD's approach to Intergang ' _the most toothless, spineless, limp-wristed stance in the history of modern law enforcement since the Chicago Police Department's colossal failure to contain Al Capone and the Chicago Outfit._ ' That was pretty freakin' savage, bro. I hope you like having hate from the criminals and the cops."

"I don't care if the Metro PD and the DA start to hate us, this is the first time in ages that I actually enjoyed working on a story." Lois said. "Besides, its about time someone talked about Intergang, because everyone else would rather act like they don't even exist. Even the Mayor won't dare speak their name in public. I mean, the high-tech gear all these supervillains are getting isn't just falling from the sky, y'know? They're not cobbling it together from scratch in their basements either. In fact, as far as I know, nobody has this kind of tech yet. Last I checked, even the US military doesn't have pulse rifles capable of leveling a city block."

"It really is getting out of hand." Jimmy said seriously. "That Heat Wave guy last month, he could have killed hundreds of people in that robbery if the Flash wasn't there to save the day. If I'm honest guys, it kind of scares me how quiet everyone is about it. The authorities I mean. Not even a peep from, I dunno, the FBI maybe."

"They're too busy chasing Batman." Clark pointed out.

"Exactly. Why do we even have law enforcement agencies if they won't do their jobs properly?" Lois asked. "How is it that three cub reporters could conduct an investigation and figure out who is pushing all this stuff out on the streets? If we can do it, why can't the police do it? Why is the FBI chasing a vigilante for breaking into a government facility-for very good reasons by the way-and not chasing after people selling highly advanced technology to criminals on the black market? Isn't domestic arms dealing breaking some sort of federal law or regulation? It just doesn't make any sense. I mean... Look at Superman for example. He doesn't go around the world preaching the values of truth and justice, he actively works towards it every single day. Look at all he's achieved in a few years time and he's just one man. What's their excuse? Red tape? Fear of sanctions? 'Diplomacy'? And yet, its Superman everyone is afraid of, because ' _muh he's way too OP alien that wants to pwn everything and enslave teh mankind_ '. I'd be fine with that if it was twelve year old's on message boards thinking along those lines, but its not, its everyone. Everyone. Frankly speaking its ridiculous and more than a little retarded."

Clark cleared his throat, uncomfortable as always with conversations on this particular subject matter.

"Smallville?"

"Yes Lois?"

"Why don't you take me out to dinner." she said rather than asked.

"What?"

"Dinner. You know, that meal people have after lunch, but before breakfast. Here's a hint, its eaten before they go to bed."

"I..I..I..."

"You? You? You?"

"I'd really love to-"

"It doesn't have to be tonight." she said, a little bit more urgently than she would have liked. "I mean...I'm sure you're exhausted."

"Tonight would be fine, its not that I don't want to..."

"Then what?"

"Its just...I don't think I can afford you."

"What am I, an escort?"

Jimmy choked back a laugh, concealing it as a cough when Lois glanced at him.

"No, its just...You probably like really nice places where you have to make reservations and observe dress codes and they give you separate menus for the wine and-"

"Clark, you don't have to worry about any of that. It'll be my treat."

"I don't-"

"Its the least I can do after all the work you put in."

Clark glanced at Jimmy, who had suddenly fallen silent.

"Um...Okay, I guess I can do that."

"Great. Just give me a few minutes to get ready, okay?" her hand squeezed his shoulder.

"Okay." he turned back to Jimmy, who was smiling. They walked on in silence.

"What's got you so amused?" Clark asked when they finally got back to their work station.

"Oh, nothing. Its just...Nothing at all." he sniggered, then he picked up his camera. "Goodnight Clark. I'd give you a condom, but based on what I saw that day in your towel, only a Magnum XL will do the job."

Clark blushed and turned away, smiling despite himself.

* * *

The restaurant they went to wasn't what Clark had expected.

He'd had visions of ugly boxy paintings on the walls, bright lights, strange furniture and servings the size of your palm, with a snooty M'aitre D recommending the day's specials. Instead it was a small, intimate, open-plan establishment. You could see the chefs working, which was a sight to behold as they chopped, fried and flipped the ingredients expertly, drizzling oil here and sprinkling powder there. The air smelled richly of herbs and spices. The walls were unpainted, exposing the red brick, and were mostly bare aside from a few large black and white photographs of Angkor Wat. Even at this hour there was a buzz of activity, people talking and laughing amongst themselves as they ate.

"I like the atmosphere." he said. "Very homely."

"Right? I hate that boring buttoned-up orthodox dining experience you get at five star joints. Its nice every once in a while for special occasions, but eating out is supposed to be fun and communal, not cold and detached. Maybe its the Army brat in me, but I like to eat with many people around."

"What exactly is the theme of this place?"

"Hard to say. The owner is half Vietnamese half Korean, and his wife who's the manager is Creole but raised in Thailand. The menu is so diverse, that's why I love it. Its like a mix of all the cultures."

"I never knew this place even existed. And its not that far from work."

"Most people don't know about this place, but I like it that way. Its a real mom and pop kind of establishment. I learned about it from my dad, he's longtime friends with the owner."

"Your dad."

"Yeah." she paused, switching off her phone. Clark was a little surprised, mostly because she and that phone were joined at the hip. But he figured it was late, and she didn't want to be bothered.

"Lois! I haven't seen you in weeks." a slim waiter spoke, approaching their table. "Have you been eating at that deli uptown?"

"No way Rodrigo, you guys are the best. Work has been crazy is all."

"I understand." he turned to Clark. "I see you've brought a friend." he smiled.

"Yes, this is Clark Kent. We work together."

"Ah." he said, smiling again. "Well, what'll it be, gentleman and lady?"

"I uh...I don't know what to order." Clark said feebly. "The most exotic thing I've ever eaten is Chinese takeout."

"Relax, I got this. Rodrigo, we'll have the smoked pork ribs, prawns with chilli, stir fried rice and sushi with wasabi."

"Coming right up. What will you be drinking?"

"Tequila. The good stuff, because Clark here has a disturbingly high alcohol tolerance."

"Alright."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I need to use the little girls room." Lois said, getting up.

"Okay." Clark said. He noticed the waiter lingering.

"Um...Is there something else?" he asked.

"Don't screw this up."

"What?"

"I've known Lois since she had braces, and she's never come here with a man that wasn't her father. Not even once. You are the very first guy I've ever seen her bring around here. So don't screw it up, and for God's sake don't let her pay. Don't even split the bill, okay? I don't care what year it is or how much you respect women, you will not let her even open her wallet."

"Um...Okay?"

The waiter nodded, then disappeared.

Clark half-smiled. Maybe his chances weren't as bad as he'd thought.

* * *

 **Metropolis Bay**

"You're quite sure of this development, Mannheim?"

"Yes. My sources at the paper tell me it'll be public knowledge tomorrow."

"I see. Well, it was inevitable, given the upscale of activity. How badly are you compromised?"

"They don't know we've gone international, at least not yet. But as far as Metropolis is concerned...They're gonna blow the lid wide open on the whole operation."

"What of it?"

"Well uh...Bad press is never good for business. The variety of people I sell this stuff to don't exactly want their names plastered in the papers. Some of these guys...They scare even me, frankly speaking. I mean, its not like we're selling Ak's and AR's, y'know? This is some high-speed shit."

"Yes, I know, I am the one who goes through the pain of procuring this 'high speed shit' for you."

"So...What should we do?"

"We? Don't you mean you?"

"Yeah."

"Go on as always."

"But-"

"The authorities are all paid up, aren't they? You have the legal officers covered, you have the local politicians in your breast pocket."

"Yeah, but-"

"So what's the problem? Who cares if people know about you? Its not like they can do anything about it. Besides, this is free advertising. Your people have a saying, there is no such thing as bad publicity, correct?"

"Yeah, if you're some D-list Hollywood bimbo trying to make it to the red carpet by leaking a sex-tape. Look, the guys I deal with, I don't think you understand...They're mercenaries, assassins, metahumans...Most of them are just balls-to-the-wall crazy people with some really sick ideas in their heads. They don't like it when their one and only supplier is all over the news. Its a bad situation. It makes them uncomfortable, and when they get uncomfortable they tend to get a little...Let's say, proactive about fixing the situation. They do everything they can to make it disappear. I don't want my fucking name-"

Bruno Mannheim choked as an iron-hard hand closed around his throat, crushing down painfully on his windpipe and lifting him up.

"Perhaps I haven't made myself clear, human."

Bruno gasped, feeling the breath leaving him. He tried to kick out, but it was like hitting a wall of granite. He tried to speak, but it was impossible.

"Its not that I don't understand your reservations, believe me I do. The thing is, I simply don't care. I. Don't. Care. I also happen to know you're making good money here, very good money, and you'll make even more if things go according to plan. You live like a king in this city, with more power than just about anyone else. In your quiet moments, you've probably asked yourself why we've never coveted your assets. You've probably wondered why we've never asked you for a single cent. Am I right?"

"Mfgh." he grunted.

"Its because the money doesn't interest us. We're looking at the bigger picture. Yes, yes, I know that's impossible for a base lifeform like you to fathom, but there are things in this world greater than material possessions, things your feeble human mind isn't capable of comprehending even if I spelled it out to you in excruciating detail."

Bruno grunted again, pointing at his neck. His face was turning blue.

"Get this through your head now, human: you work for us. When we tell you to keep selling our product, you keep selling our product. Whatever happens tomorrow is inconsequential. Look at it as free advertising, and continue with operations as normal. You are not to stop sales at all, is that understood?"

Bruno made a sound between wheezing and grunting, nodding his head vigorously.

The grip was released, and he fell back to the ground, wheezing.

"D'you see how easy that was? Violence is never misunderstood, never. A man in your line of work should know this better than most."

"..Crazy old bitch..." he rasped.

"You've got more spirit than your father, Mannheim, I'll give you that. But you don't want to get on Granny's bad side. That was me at my most merciful."

Bright spots danced before Bruno's eyes as he hyper-ventilated.

"Well, the next shipment will arrive as scheduled, nothing's changed. Thank you for the update, it has been appreciated and this information will be relayed to the relevant sources. Until next time, then."

He closed his eyes to the blinding white flash of the boom tube, waiting until all was quiet before he opened them again.

"Damn aliens." he muttered, rubbing his sore neck and rising on shaky legs.

* * *

 **A/N: Read and review**


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